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la  dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 

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dernidre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
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symbols  V  signifie  "FIN  ". 

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et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  ndcessaire.  Les  diagranimes  suivants 
illustrent  la  mdthode. 


1 

2 

3 

i      12  3 

4  5  6 


.THE 

/ BRADFORD 

PUBLIC  LiBj^Any;. 

CANADIANS  OF  OLD 


< 


i! 


169022 


BY 


PHILIPPE  AUBERT   DE  GASPE 


TRANSLATED  BY 

CHARLES  G.  D.   ROBERTS 


NEW  YORK 

D.   APPLETON    AND    COMPANY 

J890 


ttARMHHHtGri  TIWISW 


'PS^40| 


167818 


». 


ftue.f-t-\'!'    0>:    C|f>V?l'  , 


1   * 


Copyright,  1890, 

ey  d.  appleton  and  company. 


^  ' 


INTRODUCTION. 


In  Canada  there  is  settling  into  shape  a  nation  of 
two  races  ;  there  is  springing  into  existence,  at  the  same 
time,  a  literature  in  two  languages.  In  the  matter  of 
strength  and  stamina  there  is  no  overwhelming  disparity 
between  the  two  races.  The  two  languages  are  admit- 
tedly those  to  which  belong  the  supreme  literary  achieve- 
ments oi*  the  modern  world.  In  this  dual  character  of 
the  Canadiar*  people  and  the  Canadian  literature  there 
is  afforded  a  series  of  problems  which  the  future  will  be 
taxed  to  solve.  To  make  any  intelligent  forecast  as  to 
the  solution  is  hardly  possible  without  a  fair  comprehen- 
sion of  the  two  races  as  they  appear  at  the  point  of  con- 
tact. We,  of  English  speech,  turn  naturally  to  French- 
Canadian  literature  for  knowledge  of  the  French-Cana- 
dian people.  The  romance  before  us,  while  intended 
for  those  who  read  to  be  entertained,  and  by  no  means 
weighted  down  with  didactic  purpose,  succeeds  in  throw- 
ing, by  its  faithful  depictions  of  life  and  sentiment 
among  the  early  French  Canadians,  a  strong  side-light 
upon  the  motives  and  aspirations  of  the  race. 

In  spite  of  the  disclaimer  with  which  the  author 
begins,  the  romance  of  Les  Anciens  Canadiens  is  a 
classic.  From  the  literary  point  of  view  it  is  markedly 
the  best  historical  romance  so  far  produced  in  French 
Canada,     It  gathers  up  and  preserves  in  lasting  form 


INTRODUCTION, 


the  songs  and  legends,  the  characteristic  customs,  the 
phases  of  thought  and  feeling,  the  vi^ry  local  and  per- 
sonal aroma  of  a  rapidly  changing  civilization.  Much 
of  what  de  Gasp^  has  so  vividly  painted  from  his  boyish 
reminiscences  had  faded  out  of  the  life  upon  which  his 
alert  eyes  rested  in  old  age.  The  origin  of  the  romance, 
as  given  by  his  biographer,  the  Abb^  Casgrain,  is  as 
follows  : 

When,  in  1861,  that  patriotic  French-Canadian  pub- 
lication the  Soirdes  Canadicnnes  was  established,  its  in- 
augurators  adopted  as  their  motto  the  words  :  **  Let 
us  make  haste  to  write  down  the  stories  and  traditions 
of  the  people,  before  they  are  forgotten."  M.  de  Gaspe 
was  struck  with  the  idea ;  and  seeing  that  the  writers 
who  were  setting  themselves  the  laudable  task  were  all 
young  men,  he  took  the  words  as  a  summons  to  his  old 
age,  and  so  the  book  came  to  be  written. 

Patriotism,  devotion  to  the  French-Canadian  nation- 
ality, a  just  pride  of  race,  and  a  loving  memory  for  his 
people's  romantic  and  heroic  past — these  are  the  domi- 
nant chords  which  are  struck  throughout  the  story.  Of 
special  significance,  therefore,  are  the  words  which  are 
put  in  the  mouth  of  the  old  seigneur  as  he  bids  his  son 
a  last  farewell.  The  father  has  been  almost  ruined  by 
the  conquest.  The  son  has  left  the  French  army  and 
taken  the  oath  of  allegiance  to  the  English  crown. 
"  Serve  thy  new  sovereign,"  says  the  dying  soldier,  "  as 
faithfully  as  I  have  served  the  King  of  France  ;  and 
may  God  bless  thee,  my  dear  son  !  " 

In  the  present  day,  when  nationalism  in  Quebec  ap- 
pears rather  given  to  extravagant  dreams,  it  would  be 
well  for  the  distant  observer  to  view  the  French  Cana- 
dians through  the  faithful  medium  which  de  Gasp^'s 
work  affords  him.  Under  constitutional  forms  of  gov- 
ernment it  is  inevitable  that  a  vigorous  and  homogene- 


'4*: 


IN  TROD  UCriO.V. 


3mi- 

Of 

are 

son 

by 


ap- 
l  be 
ana- 
p^'s 
ov- 
ne- 


ous  minority,  whose  language  and  institutions  are  more 
or  less  threatened  by  the  mere  preponderance  of  the 
dominant  race,  should  seem  at  times  overvehement  in 
its  self-assertion.  A  closer  knowledge  leads  us  to  con- 
clude that  perhaps  the  extreme  of  Quebec  nationalism  is 
but  the  froth  on  the  surface  of  a  not  unworthy  deter- 
mination to  keep  intact  the  speech  and  institutions  of 
French  Canada.  However  this  may  be,  it  is  certain  that 
the  point  of  contact  between  the  two  races  in  Canada  is 
at  the  present  day  as  rich  a  field  for  the  romancer  as  de 
Gasp6  found  it  at  the  close  of  the  old  r/gtme. 

According  to  the  Histoire  de  la  litt^rature  Cana- 
dienne  of  Edmond  Lareau,  Philippe  Aubert  de  Gasp^ 
was  born  in  Quebec  on  the  30th  of  October,  1786.  He 
died  in  1871.  He  belonged  to  a  noble  French-Canadian 
family.  At  the  manor  of  St.  Jean-Port- Joli,  of  which  he 
was  seigneur,  he  passed  a  large  part  of  his  life;  and 
there  he  laid  the  chief  scenes  of  his  great  romance.  He 
was  educated  at  the  seminary  of  Quebec,  and  then  stud- 
ied law  in  the  city,  under  Sewell,  afterward  chief-jus- 
tice. Only  for  a  few  years,  however,  did  he  devote  him- 
self to  his  profession — one  from  which  so  many  a  poet 
and  man  of  letters  has  broken  loose.  He  accepted  the 
position  of  sheriff  of  Quebec,  and  afterward  came  mis- 
fortunes which  Lareau  passes  over  with  sympathetic 
haste.  His  lavish  generosity  to  his  friends  and  the 
financial  embarrassments  into  which  he  fell,  his  four 
years'  confinement  in  the  debtors*  prison,  hiis  sufferings 
of  soul  and  body,  all  doubtless  contributed  to  the  poign- 
ant coloring  with  which  he  has  painted  the  misfortunes 
of  M.  d'Egmont,  le  bon  gentilhomme.  On  his  release  from 
prison  he  retired  to  his  estate  of  St.  Jean- Port- Joli,  but 
not  to  the  solitude  and  benevolent  melancholy  of  D'Eg- 
mont. The  romancer  was  of  too  sunny  a  disposition,  he 
was  too  genuine  and  tolerant  a  lover  of  his  kind,  to  run 


6  INTRODUCTION. 

much  risk  of  becoming  a  recluse.  A  keynote  to  his 
nature  may  be  found  in  the  bright  Bonsoir  la  compagnie 
with  which,  in  the  words  of  an  old  French-Canadian 
song,  he  closed  his  literary  labors  at  the  age  of  seventy- 
nine,  when  the  last  page  of  the  M^moires  was  com- 
pleted. 

The  story  we  have  translated,  under  the  title  of  The 
Canadians  of  Old,  was  published  in  1862.  It  is  accom- 
panied in  the  original  by  a  mass  of  curious  information, 
in  the  shape  of  notes  and  addenda^  such  as  would  hardly 
interest  the  general  reader.  They  will  more  than  repay, 
however,  the  attention  of  any  one  who  wishes  to  study 
the  French-Canadian  people  as  they  were  in  their  early 
days.  The  story  itself  has  the  air  of  being  the  product 
of  a  happy  leisure.  The  style  is  quaint  and  unhurried, 
with  no  fear  of  the  printer's  devil  before  its  eyes.  The 
stream  of  the  narrative,  while  swift  enough  and  direct 
enough  at  need,  is  taught  to  digress  into  fascinating 
cross-channels  of  highly  colored  local  tradition,  or  to 
linger  felicitously  i.i  eddies  of  feast  and  song. 

The  work  begun  in  Les  Anciens  Canadiens  De 
Gasp^  carried  to  completion  in  his  second  and  last  com- 
position, the  Mc^moires,  published  in  1866.  As  the  for- 
mer work  is  a  vivid  epitome  of  life  at  the  seigneuries 
and  among  the  habitants  of  those  days,  so  the  latter  re- 
produces and  fixes  for  us  the  picturesque  effects  of  life 
in  the  city  of  Quebec  itself  in  the  generation  or  two 
succeeding  the  conquest — a  period  during  which  the 
French-Canadian  noblesse  yet  maintained,  about  the  per- 
son of  the  English  governor,  something  of  the  remem- 
bered splendor  of  the  old  vice-regal  court. 

Charles  G.  D.  Roberts. 


f 


his 


i 


CONTENTS. 


De 
Icom- 
for- 
uries 
re- 
life 
two 
the 
per- 
■nem- 


i 

-J 

I 


CHAPTER 

I.  Leaving  College 


II.  D'Haberville  and  Cameron  of  Lochiel 

III.  A  Night  with  the  Sorcerers 

IV.  I.A  Corriveau 

V.  The  Breaking  up  of  the  Ice 

VI.  A  Supper  at  the  House  of  a  French 

Seigneur 

VII.  D'Haberville  Manor  House. 
VIII.  The   May-Feast        .... 
IX.  The  Feast  of  St.  Jean-Baptiste  . 
X.  "  The  Good  Gentleman  " 
XI.  Madame  d'Haberville's  Story 
XII.  The  Burning  of  the  South  Shore 

XIII.  A  Night  among  the  Savages 

XIV.  The  Plains  of  Abraham 
XV.  The  Shipwreck  of  the  Auguste  . 

XVI.  Lochiel  and  Blanche     . 
XVII.  The  Family  Hearth 
XVIII.  Conclusion 


Canadian 


PAGE 

9 

i8 

31 

45 
56 

76 

99 
"5 
124 

137 
154 
167 

180 
198 
213 

22& 

254 
269 


SGARBOROUEH  TOWNSHIP 
PyBLIC  UBKAMES 


169022 


THE  CANADIA?^S  OF  OLD. 


CHAPTER  I. 


LEAVING    COLLEGE. 


Eheu  I  fugaces,  Posthume. 


Horace. 


As  my  story  lays  no  claim  to  classicism,  either  in 
style  or  structure,  this  opening  chapter  may  as  well  be 
made  to  play  the  part  of  a  preface.  My  acquaintances 
will,  doubtless,  open  their  eyes  on  seeing  me  thus  enter, 
at  the  age  of  seventy-six,  on  the  perilous  paths  of  au- 
thorship. Possibly  I  owe  them  an  explanation.  Although 
tired  of  reading  all  these  years  with  so  little  profit  either 
to  myself  or  others,  I  yet  dreaded  to  pass  the  Rubicon. 
A  matter  small  enough  in  itself  in  the  end  decided 
me. 

One  of  my  friends,  a  man  of  parts,  whom  I  met  last 
year  in  St.  Louis  Street,  in  our  good  city  of  Quebec, 
grasped  me  warmly  by  the  hand  and  exclaimed  : 

"Awfully  glad  to  see  you  !  Do  you  know,  my  dear 
fellow,  I  have  talked  this  morning  with  no  fewer  than 
eleven  people,  not  one  of  them  with  half  an  idea  in  his 
noddle  !  "    And  he  wrung  my  arm  almost  out  of  joint. 

"  Really,"  said  I,  **  you  are  very  complimentary  ;  for  I 
perceive  by  the  warmth  of  your  greeting  that  I  am  the 
exception,  the  man  you — " 

"  Oh,  yes,  indeed,"  he  cried,  without  letting  me  finish 


lO 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD, 


my  sentence,  "  those  are  the  only  sensible  words  I  have 
heard  this  morning."  And  he  crossed  the  street  to 
speak  to  some  one,  probably  his  addle-pate  number 
twelve,  who  was  seeking  to  attract  his  attention. 

"  The  devil ! "  thought  I  to  myself,  "  if  what  I  just 
said  is  in  any  v^ay  brilliant,  it  would  seem  easy  enough  to 
shine.  Though  1  have  never  yet  been  suspected  of  it,  I 
must  be  rather  a  clever  fellow." 

Much  elated  with  this  discovery,  and  congratulating 
myself  that  I  had  more  brains  than  the  unhappy  eleven 
of  whom  my  friend  had  spoken,  I  hurry  to  my  library, 
I  furnish  myself,  perhaps  all  too  appropriately,  with  a 
ream  of  the  paper  called  *'  foolscap,"  and  I  set  myself 
to  work. 

I  write  for  my  own  amusement,  at  the  risk  of  weary- 
ing the  reader  who  may  have  the  patience  to  go  through 
this  volume.  But,  as  Nature  has  made  me  compassionate, 
I  will  give  this  dear  reader  a  little  good  advice.  He  had 
better  throw  away  the  unlucky  book  without  taking  the 
trouble  to  criticise  it,  which  would  be  making  it  much 
too  important,  and  would  be,  moreover,  but  wasted  labor 
for  the  serious  critic ;  for,  unlike  that  old  Archbishop 
of  Granada,  so  touchy  on  the  subject  of  his  sermons,  of 
whom  Gil  Bias  has  told  us,  I  am,  for  my  part,  blessed 
with  an  easy  humor,  and,  instead  of  retorting  to  my 
critic,  "I  wish  you  good  luck  and  very  much  better 
taste,"  I  will  frankly  admit  that  my  book  has  a  thousand 
faults,  of  most  of  which  I  have  a  lively  consciousness. 

As  for  the  unfriendly  critic,  his  work  will  be  all  in 
vain,  debarred  as  he  will  be  from  the  privilege  of 
dragging  me  into  a  controversy.  Let  me  say  beforehand 
that  I  grieve  to  deprive  him  of  his  gentle  diversion,  and 
to  clip  his  claws  so  soon.  I  am  old  and  indolently  con- 
tent, like  Figaro  of  merry  memory.  Moreover,  I  have 
not  enough  self-conceit  to  engage  in  any  defense  of 


1 


LEAVING  COLLEGE, 


II 


;e  of 
Ihand 
and 
icon- 
have 
k  of 


my  literary  productions.  To  record  some  incidents  of 
a  well-loved  past,  to  chronicle  some  memories  of  a  youth 
long  flown — this  is  my  whole  ambition. 

Many  of  the  anecdotes,  doubtless,  will  appear  insig- 
nificant and  childish  to  some  readers.  Let  these  lay  the 
blame  upon  certain  of  our  best  men-of-letters,  who  be- 
sought me  to  leave  out  nothing  which  could  illustrate 
the  manners  and  customs  of  the  early  Canadians.  "  That 
which  will  appear  insignificant  and  childish  to  the  eyes 
of  strangers,"  they  urged,  "  in  the  records  of  a  septuage- 
narian, born  but  twenty-eight  years  after  the  conquest 
of  New  France,  will  yet  not  fail  to  interest  true  Cana- 
dians." 

This  production  of  mine  shall  be  neither  very  dull 
nor  surpassingly  brilliant.  An  author  should  assuredly 
have  too  much  self-respect  to  make  his  appeal  exclu- 
sively to  the  commonplace  ;  and  if  I  should  make  the 
work  too  fine,  it  would  be  appreciated  by  none  but  the 
l^eaux  esprits.  Under  a  constitutional  government,  a 
candidate  must  concern  himself  rather  with  the  number 
than  the  quality  of  his  votes. 

This  work  will  be  Canadian  through  and  through. 
It  is  hard  for  an  old  fellow  of  seventy  to  change  his 
ancient  coat  for  garb  of  modern  pattern. 

I  must  have  also  plenty  of  elbow-room.  As  for  rule 
and  precept — which,  by  the  way,  I  am  well  enough  ac- 
quainted with — I  can  not  submit  myself  to  t'lem  in  a 
work  like  this.  Let  the  purists,  the  past  mast(jrs  in  the 
art  of  literature,  shocked  at  my  mistakes,  dub  my  book 
romance,  memoir,  annals,  miscellany,  hotch-potch.  It 
is  all  the  same  to  me. 

Having  accomplished  my  preface,  let  me  make  a 
serious  beginning  with  the  following  pretty  bit  of  verse, 
hitherto  unpublished,  and  doubtless  now  much  surprised 
to  find  itself  in  such  unworthy  company  : 


12 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


QUEBEC,  1757. 

An  eagle  city  on  her  heights  austere, 

Taker  of  tribute  from  the  chainless  flood, 

She  watches  wave  above  her  in  the  clear 
The  whiteness  of  her  banner  purged  with  blood. 

Near  her  grim  citadel  the  blinding  sheen 
Of  her  cathedral  spire  triumphant  soars, 

Rocked  by  the  Angelus,  whose  peal  serene 
Beats  over  Beaupre  and  the  L6vis  shores. 

Tossed  in  his  light  craft  on  the  dancing  wave, 
A  stranger  where  he  once  victorious  trod, 

The  passing  Iroquois,  fierce-eyed  and  grave, 
Frowns  on  the  flag  of  France^  the  cross  of  God. 

Let  him  who  knows  this  Quebec  of  ours  betake  him- 
self, in  body  or  in  spirit,  to  the  market  of  the  Upper 
Town,  and  consider  the  changes  which  the  region  has 
undergone  since  the  year  of  grace  1757,  whereat  my 
story  opens.  There  was  then  the  same  cathedral,  minus 
its  modern  tower,  which  seems  to  implore  the  charitable 
either  to  raise  it  to  its  proper  height  or  to  decapitate  its 
lofty  and  scornful  sister. 

The  Jesuits'  College,  at  a  later  date  transformed  into 
a  barrack,  looked  much  the  same  as  it  does  to-day ; 
but  what  has  become  of  the  church  which  stood  of  old 
in  the  place  of  the  present  halls  ?  Where  is  the  grove  of 
venerable  trees  behind  the  building,  which  adorned  the 
grounds,  now  so  bare,  of  this  edifice  sacred  to  the  edu- 
cation of  Canadian  youth  ?  Time  and  the  axe,  alas ! 
have  worked  their  will.  In  place  of  the  merry  sports, 
the  mirthful  sallies  of  the  students,  the  sober  steps  of 
the  professors,  the  high  philosophic  discourse,  we  hear 
now  the  clatter  of  arms,  the  roarse  jest  of  the  guard. 

Instead  of  the  market  of  the  present  day,  some  low- 
built  butchers*  stalls,  perhaps  seven  or  eight  in  number, 
occupted  a  little  plot  between  tne  cathedral  and  the 


LEAVING  COLLEGE. 


13 


college.  Between  these  stalls  and  the  college  prattled 
a  brook,  which,  after  descending  St.  Louis  Street  and 
dividing  Fabrique,  traversed  Couillard  and  the  hospital 
garden,  on  its  way  to  the  river  St.  Charles.  Our  fathers 
were  bucolic  in  their  tastes  ! 

It  is  the  end  of  April.  The  brook  is  overflowing  ; 
children  are  amusing  themselves  by  detaching  from  its 
edges  cakes  of  ice,  which,  shrinking  as  they  go,  over- 
leap all  barriers,  and  lose  themselves  at  last  in  the 
mighty  tide  of  the  St.  Lawrence.  A  poet,  who  finds 
"sermons  in  stones,  books  in  the  running  brooks," 
dreaming  over  the  scene,  and  marking  the  descent  of 
the  ice-cakes,  their  pausings,  their  rebuffs,  might  have 
compared  them  to  those  ambitious  men  who,  after  a 
restless  life,  come  with  little  wealth  or  fame  to  the  end 
of  their  career,  and  are  swallowed  up  in  eternity. 

The  houses  neighboring  the  market-place  are,  for 
the  most  part,  of  but  one  story,  unlike  our  modern 
structures,  which  tower  aloft  as  if  dreading  another 
deluge. 

It  is  noon.  The  Angelus  rings  out  from  the  cathe- 
dral belfry.  All  the  city  chimes  proclaim  the  greeting 
of  the  angel  to  the  Virgin,  who  is  the  Canadian's  pa- 
tron saint.  The  loitering  habitants ^  whose  calashes  sur- 
round the  stalls,  take  off  their  caps  and  devoutly  mur- 
mur the  Angelus.  All  worshiping  alike,  there  is  none 
to  deride  the  pious  custom. 

Some  of  our  nineteenth-century  Christians  seem 
ashamed  to  perform  before  others  an  act  of  worship ; 
which  is  proof,  to  say  the  least,  of  a  shrinking  or  cow- 
ardly spirit.  The  followers  of  Mohammed,  who  have  the 
courage  of  their  convictions  wherever  they  may  chanc** 
to  be,  will  seven  times  daily  make  their  prayers  to  Allah 
under  the  eyes  of  the  more  timid  Christians. 

The  students  of  the  Jesuits*  College,  noisy  enough 


14 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


■% 

"'-t^*! 


on  ordinary  occasions,  move  to-day  in  a  serious  silence 
from  the  church  wherein  they  have  been  praying.  What 
causes  this  unusual  seriousness  ?  They  are  on  the  eve 
of  separation  from  two  beloved  fellow-students.  The 
younger  of  the  two,  who,  being  more  of  their  age,  was 
wont  to  share  more  often  in  their  boyish  sports,  was  the 
protector  of  the  feeble  against  the  strong,  the  impartial 
arbitrator  in  all  their  petty  disagreements. 

The  great  door  of  the  college  opens,  and  two  young 
men  in  traveling  dress  join  the  group  of  their  fellow- 
students.  Two  leathern  portmanteaus,  five  feet  long, 
adorned  with  rings,  chains,  and  padlocks  which  would 
seem  strong  enough  for  the  mooring  of  a  ship,  lie  at 
their  feet.  The  younger  of  the  two,  slight  and  deli- 
cate-looking, is  perhaps  eighteen  years  old.  His  dark 
complexion,  great  black  eyes,  alert  and  keen,  his  abrupt- 
ness of  gesture,  proclaim  his  French  blood.  His  name 
is  Jules  d'Haberville.  His  father  is  one  of  the  seigneurs, 
captain  of  a  company  in  the  colonial  marine. 

His  companion,  who  is  older  by  two  or  three  years, 
is  much  taller  and  more  robust  of  frame.  His  fine  blue 
eyes,  his  chestnut  hair,  his  blonde  and  ruddy  complex- 
ion with  a  few  scattered  freckles  on  face  and  hands, 
.  his  slightly  aggressive  chin — all  these  reveal  a  foreign 
origin.  This  is  Archibald  Cameron  of  Lochiel,  com- 
monly known  as  Archie  of  Lochiel,  a  young  Scotch  High- 
lander who  has  been  studying  at  the  Jesuits'  College  in 
Quebec.  How  is  it  that  he,  a  stranger,  finds  himself  in 
this  remote  French  colony  ?  We  will  let  the  sequel 
show. 

The  young  men  are  both  notably  good  looking. 
They  are  clad  alike  with  hooded  overcoat,  scarlet  leg- 
gings edged  with  green  ribbon,  blue  woolen  knitted  gar- 
ters, a  broad  belt  of  vivid  colors  embroidered  with  glass 
beads,  deer-hide  moccasins  tied  in  Iroquois  fashion,  the 


II 
ci 

a 

hi 

d( 
mi 
it 
h( 


1 


m 


LEAVING  COLLEGE. 


n 


luel 

ng- 
eg- 

ar- 

ass 

■the 


insteps  embroidered  with  porcupine-quills,  and,  finally, 
caps  of  beaver-skin  fastened  over  the  ears  by  means  of 
a  red  silk  handkerchief  knotted  under  the  chin. 

The  younger  betrays  a  feverish  eagerness,  and  keeps 
glancing  along  Buade  Street. 

"  You  are  in  a  hurry  to  leave  us,  Jules,"  said  one  of 
his  friends,  reproachfully. 

"  No,"  replied  D'Haberville,  "  oh,  no,  indeed,  my 
dear  De  Laronde,  I  assure  you ;  but,  since  this  parting 
must  take  place,  I  wish  it  over.  It  unnerves  me  ;  and 
it  is  natural  that  I  should  be  in  a  hurry  to  get  back 
home  again." 

**  That  is  right,"  said  De  Laronde  ;  "  and,  moreover, 
sir.ce  you  are  a  Canadian,  we  hope  to  see  you  again  be- 
fore very  long." 

**  But  with  you  the  case  is  different,  my  dear  Archie," 
said  another.  "  I  fear  this  parting  will  be  forever,  if  you 
return  to  your  own  country." 

"  Promise  us  that  you  will  come  back,"  cried  all  the 
students. 

During  this  conversation  Jules  darts  off  like  an  arrow 
to  meet  two  men,  each  with  an  oar  on  his  right  shoulder, 
who  are  hastening  along  by  the  cathedral.  One  of  them 
wears  the  costume  of  the  habitants — capote  of  black 
homespun,  gray  woolen  cap,  gray  leggings  and  garters, 
.belt  of  many  colors,  and  heavy  cowhide  larrigans  tied 
in  the  manner  of  the  Iroquois.  The  dress  of  the  other 
is  more  like  that  of  our  young  travelers,  although  much 
less  costly.  The  first,  tall  and  rough  -  mannered,  is  a 
ferryman  of  Point  L^vis.  The  second,  shorter,  but  of 
athletic  build,  is  a  follower  of  Captain  d'Haberville, 
Jules's  father.  In  times  of  war,  a  soldier;  in  peace,  he 
occupies  the  place  of  a  favored  servant.  He  is  the 
captain's  foster-brother  and  of  the  same  age.  He  is  the 
I  right  hand  of  the  family.     He  has  rocked  Jules  in  his, 


i6 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD, 


arms,  singing  him  the  gay  catches  of  our  up-river  boat- 
men. 

"  Dear  Jos^,  how  are  you  ?  How  have  you  left  them 
all  at  home  ? "  cried  Jules,  flinging  his  arms  about  him. 

"  All  well  enough,  thank  God,"  replied  Jose  ;  "  they 
send  you  all  kinds  o'  love,  and  are  in  a  great  way  to  see 
you.  But  how  you  have  grown  in  the  last  few  months  ! 
Lord  !  Master  Jules,  but  it  is  good  to  set  eyes  on  you 
again." 

In  spite  of  the  familiar  affection  lavished  upon  Jos^ 
by  the  whole  D'Haberville  family,  he  never  forgot  to  be 
scrupulously  respectful. 

Jules  overwhelms  him  with  eager  inquiries.  He  asks 
about  the  servants,  about  the  neighbors,  and  about  the 
old  dog  whom,  when  in  his  thirty-sixth  lesson,  he  had 
christened  Niger  to  display  his  proficiency  in  Latin. 
He  has  forgiven  even  the  greedy  cat  who,  the  year  be- 
fore, had  gobbled  up  a  young  pet  nightingale  which  he 
had  intended  to  take  to  college  with  him.  In  the  first 
heat  of  his  wrath,  it  is  true,  he  had  hunted  the  assassin 
with  a  club,  under  tables,  chairs,  and  beds,  and  finally 
on  to  the  roof  itself,  which  the  guilty  animal  had  sought 
as  an  impregnable  refuge.  Now,  however,  he  has  for- 
given the  creature's  misdeeds  and  makes  tender  inquiry 
after  its  health. 

"  Hello  there  ! "  grumbles  the  ferryman,  who  takes 
very  little  interest  in  the  above  scenes,  "  when  you  have 
done  slobbering  and  chattering  about  the  cat  and  dog, 
perhaps  you'll  make  a  move.  The  tide  won't  wait  for 
nobody." 

In  spite  of  the  impatience  and  ill-humor  of  the  ferry- 
man, it  took  long  to  say  farewell.  Their  instructors  em- 
braced them  affectionately. 

"  You  are  to  be  soldiers,  both  of  you,  said  the  prin- 
cipal.   "  In  daily  peril  of  your  life  upon  the  battle-field, 


m 


LEAVING  COLLEGE. 


17 


r  boat- 

:t  them 
t  him. 
"  they 
'  to  see 
onths  ! 
an  you 

in  Jos6 
)t  to  be 

le  asks 

out  the 

he  had 

Latin. 

ear  be- 

lich  he 

he  first 

Assassin 

finally 

sought 

as  for- 

nquiry 

takes 

[u  have 

Id  dog, 

^ait  for 


you  must  keep  God  ever  before  you.  It  may  be  the 
will  of  Heaven  that  you  fall.  Be  ready,  therefore,  at  all 
times,  that  you  may  go  before  the  judgment-seat  with  a 
clear  conscience.  Take  this  for  your  battle-cry — *  God, 
the  King,  and  Fatherland  ! ' " 

"Farewell!"  exclaimed  Archie — **  you  who  have 
opened  your  hearts  to  the  stranger.  Farewell,  kind 
friends,  who  have  striven  to  make  the  poor  exile  forget 
that  he  belonged  to  an  alien  race.  Farewell,  perhaps 
forever." 

*'  This  parting  would  be  hard  indeed  for  me,"  said 
Jules,  deeply  moved,  "had  I  not  the  hope  that  my 
regiment  will  soon  be  ordered  to  Canada."  Then,  turn- 
ing to  his  instructors,  he  said  : 

"I  have  tried  your  patience  sorely,  gentlemen,  but 
you  know  that  my  heart  has  always  been  better  than  my 
head ;  I  beg  that  you  will  forgive  the  one  for  the  sake 
of  the  other. — As  for  you,  my  fellow-students,"  he  con- 
tinued, with  a  lightness  that  was  somewhat  forced,  "you 
must  admit  that,  if  I  have  tormented  you  sadly  with  my 
nonsense  during  the  last  ten  years,  I  have  at  least  suc- 
ceeded in  sometimes  making  you  laugh." 

Seizing  Archie  by  the  arm,  he  hurried  him  off  in  or- 
der to  conceal  his  emotion. 

We  may  leave  our  travelers  now  to  cross  the  St. 
Lawrence,  and  rejoin  them  a  little  later  at  Point  L^vis. 


ferry- 
>rs  em- 


prm- 
;-field, 


H 


SCARBOROUGH  TOWpiP   1 


i 


CHAPTER   II. 


as 


D  HABERVILLE   AND   CAMERON   OF   LOCHIEL. 

Give  me,  oh  !  give  me  back  the  days 
When  I — itoo — was  young, 
And  felt,  as  they  now  feel,  each  coming  hour, 
New  consciousness  of  power.  .  .  . 

The  fields,  the  grove,  the  air  was  haunted, 
And  all  that  age  has  disenchanted.  .  .  . 

Give  me,  oh  !  give  youth's  passions  unconfined. 
The  rush  of  joy  that  felt  almost  like  pain. 

Goethe. 

Archibald  Cameron  of  Lochiel,  son  of  a  Highland 
chief  who  had  wedded  a  daughter  of  France,  was  but 
four  years  old  when  he  lost  his  mother.  Brought  up  by 
his  father,  who  was,  in  the  language  of  the  Scriptures,  a 
valiant  hunter  in  the  sight  of  God,  ever  since  ten  years 
old  he  had  followed  him  in  the  chase  of  the  roebuck  and 
other  wild  beasts,  scaling  the  highest  mountains,  swim- 
ming the  icy  torrents,  making  his  couch  on  the  wet  sod 
with  no  covering  but  his  plaid,  no  roof  but  the  vault  of 
heaven.  Under  such  a  Spartan  training  the  boy  came 
to  find  his  chief  delight  in  this  wild  and  wandering  life. 

When  Archie  was  but  twelve  years  old,  in  the  year 
1745,  his  father  joined  the  standard  of  that  unhappy 
young  prince  who,  after  the  old  romantic  fashion,  threw 
himself  into  the  arms  of  his  Scottish  countrymen,  and 
called  upon  them  to  win  him  back  a  crown  which  the 
bloody  field  of  CuUoden  forced  him  to  renounce  for- 


H'M 


D'HABERVILLE  AND   CAMERON  OF  LOCI/I  EL. 


19 


jver.  Audacious  as  was  the  undertaking,  tremendous 
IS  were  the  difficulties,  to  be  grappled  in  a  contest  with 
the  tried  strength  of  England,  not  one  of  the  mountain- 
iers  failed  him.  With  the  enthusiasm  of  lofty  and  de- 
|voted  hearts  they  responded  to  his  appeal.  They  were 
touched  at  the  sight  of  a  king's  misfortunes,  they  were 
lOved  by  the  confidence  of  Charles  Edward  in  their 
loyalty. 

In  the  early  days  of  this  disastrous  struggle,  courage 
ras  triumphant  over  numbers  and  discipline,  and  heir 
lountains  re-echoed  to  their  outmost  isles  the  songs  of 
victory.  The  enthusiasm  was  at  its  height.  The  victory 
seemed  already  won.  But  short-lived  was  their  triumph. 
After  achievements  of  most  magnificent  heroism  they 
were  forced  to  bow  their  necks  to  defeat.  Lochiel  shared 
the  fate  of  the  many  brave  whose  blood  reddened  the 
leather  on  Culloden. 

A  long  cry  of  rage  and  despair  went  up  from  the 
lills  and  glens  of  Old  Caledonia.     Her  children  were 
robbed  of  their  last  hope  of  winning  back  a  freedom  for 
rhich  they  had  fought  through  centuries  of  desperate 
ralor.    This  was  the  death-cry  of  a  brave  people.     Scot- 
land, now  become  an  integral  part  of  one  of  the  mighti- 
est empires  of  the  world,  has  had  no  room  for  grieving 
at  her  defeat.     Her  ancient  enemies  have  made  boast  of 
5:the  achievements   of  her  poets  and   writers,  and   her 
statesmen  have  been  as  distinguished  in  the  councils  of 
their  sovereign  as  her  warriors  in  fighting  for  their  new 
Fatherland.     While  their  brothers  in  green  Ireland  yet 
jroan  and  gnaw  their  chains,  the  Scotch  rest  happy  in 
iheir  prosperity  and  their  peace.    Who  will  explain  to  us 
ifche  difference  ?     Ireland  has  furnished  her  full  share  of 
Iritain's  glory  :  the  magic  of  her  orators  has  thrilled 
England  to  the  heart ;  her  soldiers,  bravest  of  the  brave, 
plave  conquered  kingdoms  ;  her  poets,  her  writers,  be- 


20 


THE   CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


.!« 


s 


guile  the  leisure  of  Great  Britain's  most  cultured  sons. 
Her  feet  have  mounted  by  every  path  of  glory.  Why, 
then,  does  this  lamentation  yet  go  up  from  her  fields,  and 
hills,  and  valleys,  and  even  from  the  refuge  of  her  exiles  ! 
One  would  think  the  soil  of  Ireland,  watered  with  so 
many  tears,  could  no  longer  bring  forth  anything  but 
thorns,  and  briers,  and  wormwood.  Yet  her  meadows 
are  always  green,  her  fields  clothed  with  bountiful  har- 
vests. Why  comes  there  ceaselessly  from  the  Irish  heart 
this  muttering  so  ominous  of  storm  ?  Let  history  answer 
the  question. 

An  uncle  of  Archie's,  who  had  also  followed  the 
standard  and  fortunes  of  the  unhappy  prince,  had  the 
good  fortune,  after  the  disaster  of  Culloden,  to  save  his 
head  from  the  scaffold.  Through  a  thousand  perils, 
over  a  thousand  obstacles,  he  made  good  his  flight  to 
France  with  his  orphan  nephew.  The  old  gentleman, 
ruined  in  fortune  and  under  sentence  of  banishment, 
was  having  a  hard  struggle  to  support  himself  and  his 
charge,  when  a  Jesuit,  an  uncle  of  the  boy  on  his 
mother's  side,  undertook  a  share  of  the  burden.  Archie 
was  sent  to  the  Jesuits'  College  in  Quebec.  Having  com- 
pleted a  thorough  course  in  mathematics,  he  is  leaving 
college  when  the  reader  makes  his  acquaintance. 

Archibald  Cameron  of  Lochiel,  whom  the  harsh  hand 
of  misfortune  had  brought  to  an  early  maturity,  knew 
not  at  first  what  to  make  of  a  boy  noisy,  troublesome 
and  mocking,  who  seemed  the  despair  alike  of  masters 
and  students.  To  be  sure,  the  boy  had  not  all  the  fun 
on  his  own  side.  Out  of  twenty  canings  and  imposi- 
tions bestowed  upon  his  class,  Jules  d'Haberville  was 
sure  to  pocket  at  least  nineteen  for  his  share. 

It  must  be  acknowledged,  also,  that  the  older  pupils, 
driven  to  the  end  of  their  patience,  bestowed  upon  him 
sometimes  more  knocks  than  nuts  ;  but  you  would  have 


o| 
PI 


'*y' 


D'lIABERVILLE  AND   CAMERON  OF  LOCIIIEL.   2 1 


ed  sons. 
.  Why, 
jlds,  and 
r  exiles  ! 
with  so 
ling  but 
neadows 
iful  har- 
ish  heart 
J  answer 

ived  the 
had  the 
save  his 
I   perils, 
flight  to 
itleman, 
shment, 
and  his 
on   his 
Archie 
ig  corn- 
leaving 

;h  hand 
',  knew 
lesome 
nasters 
he  fun 
mposi- 
le  was 

pupils, 
>n  him 
d  have 


though^-  the  youngster  regarded  all  this  as  an  encourage- 
inent,  so  ready  was  he  to  resume  his  tricks.  We  may 
Udd  that  Jules,  without  being  vindictive,  never  wholly 
overlooked  an  injury.  In  one  way  or  another  he  always 
jnade  matters  even.  His  satire,  his  home  thrusts,  which 
could  bring  a  flush  to  the  face  of  even  the  most  self- 
possessed,  served  his  purpose  very  effectually  with  the 
masters  or  with  those  larger  students  whom  he  could 
not  otherwise  reach. 

He  had  adopted  it  as  his  guiding  principle,  that  he 
would  never  acknowledge  himself  beaten  ;  and  it  was 
necessary,  therefore,  for  his  opponents,  when  weary  of 
war,  to  make  him  proposals  of  peace. 

The  reader  will  doubtless  conclude  that  the  boy  was 
cordially  disliked  ;  on  the  contrary,  every  one  was  fond 
of  him  ;  he  was  the  pet  of  the  college.  The  truth  is, 
Jules  had  such  a  heart  as  pulses  all  too  rarely  in  the 
breast  of  man.  To  say  that  he  was  generous  to  a  fault, 
that  he  was  ever  ready  to  defend  the  absent,  to  sacrifice 
jhimself  in  order  to  conceal  the  faults  of  others,  would 
Iftot  give  an  adequate  description  of  his  character.  The 
following  incident  will  reveal  him  more  effectively  :  When 
he  was  about  twelve  years  old,  a  senior  student  got  out 
of  patience  and  kicked  him  ;  with  no  intention,  however, 
of  hurting  him  much.  It  was  contrary  to  Jules's  code 
of  honor  to  carry  complaints  to  the  masters.  He  con- 
tented himself  with  replying  to  his  assailant :  "You  are 
too  thick-headed,  you  big  brute,  for  me  to  waste  any 
Sarcasm  on  you.  You  would  not  understand  it.  One 
must  pierce  your  hide  in  some  other  way  ;  but  be  patient, 
you  will  lose  nothing  by  waiting !  " 

After  rejecting  certain  more  or  less  ingenious  schemes 

of  vengeance,  Jules  resolved  to  catch  his  enemy  asleep 

and  shave  his  eyebrows—a  punishment  which  would  be 

|Basy  to  inflict,  as  Dubuc,  the  youth  who  had  kicked 


11 


22 


THE  CAXAVrAXS  OF  OLD, 


n 


I 


him,  was  a  mighty  heavy  sleeper.  This  plan  had  the 
further  advantage  of  touching  him  on  a  most  sensitive 
point,  for  he  was  a  handsome  fellow  and  a  good  deal  of 
a  dandy. 

Jules  had  just  decided  on  this  revenge,  when  he  heard 
Dubuc  say  to  one  of  his  friends,  who  had  rallied  him  on 
looking  gloomy  : 

"  Indeed,  I  have  good  reason  to  be,  for  I  expect  my 
father  to-morrow.  I  have  got  into  debt  with  the  shop- 
keepers, hoping  that  my  mother  would  come  to  Quebec 
ahead  of  him,  and  would  relieve  me  without  his  know- 
ing anything  about  it.  Father  is  close-fisted  and  violent. 
He  will  probably  strike  me  in  the  first  heat  of  his  anger  ; 
and  I  don't  know  where  to  hide  my  head.  I  have  a 
mind  to  run  away  until  the  storm  is  over." 

"  Oh,"  said  Jules,  "  why  don't  you  let  me  help  you 
out  of  the  scrape  ? " 

"  The  devil  you  say  !  "  exclaimed  Dubuc,  shaking 
his  head. 

"  Why,"  said  Jules,  "  do  you  think  that  on  account 
of  a  kick,  more  or  less,  I  would  leave  a  fellow-student 
in  a  scrape  and  exposed  to  the  violence  of  his  amiable 
papa  }  To  be  sure,  you  almost  broke  my  back,  but  that 
is  another  affair,  which  we  will  settle  later.  How  much 
cash  do  you  want  ?  " 

"  My  dear  fellow,"  answered  Dubuc,  "  that  would  be 
abusir  •  your  kindness.  I  need  a  large  sum,  and  I  know 
you  a  \i  not  in  funds  just  now ;  for  you  emptied  your 
purse  to  help  that  poor  woman  whose  husband  was 
killed  the  other  day." 

"  A  pretty  story,"  said  Jules.  "  As  if  one  could  not 
always  find  money  to  save  a  friend  from  the  wrath  of  a 
father  who  is  going  to  break  his  neck !  How  much  do 
you  want  ? " 

"  Fifty  francs  !  " 


r 


D'lIABERVILLE  AND   CAMERON  OF  LOCI/IE L, 


23 


had  the 
sensitive 
I  deal  of 

le  heard 
i  him  on 

pect  my 
le  shop- 
Quebec 
s  know- 
violent. 
3  anger ; 
have  a 

elp  you 

[shaking 

iccount 
student 
imiable 
>ut  that 
much 

mid  be 
know 
1  your 
d  was 

id  not 
h  of  a 
ich  do 


"You  shall  have  them  this  evening,"  said  the  boy. 

Jules,  an  only  son,  belonging  to  a  rich  family,  in- 
dulged by  everybody,  had  his  pockets  always  full  of 
money.  Father  and  mother,  uncles  and  aunts,  god- 
fathers and  godmothers,  they  all  kept  loudly  proclaim- 
ing that  boys  should  not  have  too  much  money  to  spend. 
At  the  same  time  they  outdid  each  other  in  surreptitious- 
ly supplying  his  purse  ! 

Dubuc,  however,  had  spoken  truly  ;  the  boy's  purse 
was  empty  for  the  moment.  Fifty  francs  was,  moreover, 
quite  a  sum  in  those  days.  The  King  of  France  was 
paying  his  red  allies  only  fifty  francs  for  an  English 
scalp.  His  Britannic  Majesty,  richer  or  more  generous, 
was  paying  a  hundred  for  the  scalp  of  a  Frenchman  ! 

Jules  did  not  care  to  apply  to  his  uncles  and  his 
aunts,  the  only  relations  he  had  in  the  city.  His  first 
thought  was  to  borrow  fifty  francs  by  pawning  his  gold 
watch,  which  was  worth  at  least  twenty-five  louis.  Re- 
volving the  matter,  however,  he  bethought  himself  of  a 
certain  old  woman,  a  servant  of  the  house,  whom  his 
father  had  dowered  at  her  marriage,  and  to  whom  he  had 
afterward  advanced  enough  money  to  set  her  up  in  busi- 
ness. The  business  had  prospered  in  her  hands.  She 
was  a  widow,  rich  and  childless. 

There  were  difficulties  to  surniount,  however.  The 
old  dame  was  rather  avaricious  and  crusty ;  and  on  the 
occasion  of  Jules's  last  visit  they  had  not  parted  on  the 
V  best  terms  possible.  She  had  even  chased  him  into  the 
street  with  a  broomstick.  The  boy  had  done  nothing 
more,  however,  than  play  her  a  little  trick.  He  had  given 
4  her  pet  spaniel  a  dose  of  snuff,  and  when  the  old  lady 
ran  to  the  help  of  her  dog,  who  was  conducting  himself 
like  a  lunatic,  he  had  emptied  the  rest  of  the  snuff-box 
into  a  dandelion  salad  which  she  was  carefully  picking 
over  for  her  supper. 


24 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


"  Hold  on,  mother,"  he  cried,  as  he  ran  away,  "  there 
is  a  good  seasoning  for  you." 

Jules  saw  that  it  was  very  necessary  to  make  his 
peace  with  the  good  dame,  and  hence  these  preliminaries. 
He  threw  his  arms  about  her  neck  on  entering,  in  spite 
of  the  old  woman's  attempt  to  shield  herself  from  these 
too  ardent  demonstrations,  after  the  way  he  had  affronted 
her. 

"See,  my  dear  Madeleine."  he  cried,  "  I  am  come  to 
pardon  thine  offenses  as  thou  must  pardon  all  who  have 
offended  against  thee.  Everybody  says  thou  art  stingy 
and  revengeful,  but  that  is  no  business  of  mine.  Thou 
wilt  get  quit  of  it  by  roasting  a  little  while  in  another 
world.     I  v/ash  my  hands  of  it  entirely." 

Madeleine  hardly  knew  whether  to  laugh  or  be  angry 
at  this  fantastic  preamble  ;  but,  as  she  was  fond  of  the 
boy,  for  all  his  tricks^  she  took  the  wiser  course  and 
smiled  good-naturedly. 

"Now  that  we  are  in  a  better  humor,"  continued 
Jules,  "  let  us  proceed  to  business.  I  have  been  a  little 
foolish  and  have  got  into  debt,  and  I  dread  to  trouble 
my  good  father  about  it.  In  fact,  I  want  fifty  francs  to 
settle  the  unfortunate  business.  Can  you  lend  me  that 
much  ?" 

"Indeed,  now,  Master  d'Haberville,"  answered  the 
old  dame,  "  if  that  were  all  I  had  in  the  world,  I  would 
give  it  all  to  save  your  father  any  trouble.  I  owe  so 
much  to  your  father." 

"  Tut !  "  said  Jules,  "  if  you  talk  of  those  ha'pennies, 
there's  an  end  of  business.  But  listen,  my  good  Made- 
leine, since  I  might  break  my  neck  when  I  least  expect 
It,  or  still  more  probably  when  climbing  on  the  roof  or 
among  the  city  bells,  I  must  give  you  a  bit  of  writing  for 
security.  I  hope,  however,  to  pay  you  back  in  a  month 
at  latest." 


D'HABl.RVILLE  AND  CAMERON  OF  LOCH f EL, 


25 


At  this  Madeleine  was  seriously  offended.  She  re- 
fused the  note,  and  counted  him  out  the  money.  Jules 
almost  choked  her  with  his  embrace,  sprang  through  the 
window  into  the  street  and  hurried  back  to  the  college. 

At  recess  time  that  evening  Dubuc  was  freed  from 
all  anxiety  on  the  score  of  his  amiable  papa. 

"But  remember,"  said  D'Haberville,  "I  still  owe 
you  for  that  kick." 

"  Hold  on,  dear  boy,"  exclaimed  Dubuc,  with  feel- 
ing. "  I  wish  you  would  settle  that  right  now.  Break 
my  head  or  my  back  with  the  poker,  only  let  us  settle 
it.  To  think  that,  after  all  you  have  done  for  me,  you 
are  still  bearing  me  a  grudge,  would  be  nothing  less  than 
torture." 

"A  fine  idea  that,"  exclaimed  the  boy,  "to  think 
that  I  bear  any  one  a  grudge  because  I  am  in  his  debt 
in  regard  to  a  little  exchange  of  compliments  !  So  that 
is  how  you  take  it,  eh  }  Shake,  then,  and  let  us  think 
no  more  about  it.  You  may  brag  of  being  the  only  one 
to  scratch  me  without  my  having  drawn  his  blood  in  re- 
turn." 

With  these  words  he  sprang  upon  the  young  man's 
shoulders  like  a  monkey,  pulled  out  a  few  hairs  to  sat- 
isfy his  conscience,  and  scampered  off  to  join  the  merry 
group  which  was  waiting  for  him. 

Archibald  of  Lochiel,  matured  by  bitter  experiences, 
and  on  that  account  more  self-contained  and  more  re- 
served than  other  boys  of  his  age,  on  his  first  coming  to 
college  hardly  knew  whether  to  smile  or  be  angry  at  tlie 
frolics  of  the  little  imp  who  seemed  to  have  taken  him 
for  his  special  butt,  and  who  hardly  left  him  any  peace. 
He  could  not  be  expected  to  divine  that  this  was  Jules's 
manner  of  showing  his  affection  for  those  he  loved  the 
most.  One  day,  driven  to  the  end  of  his  forbearance, 
Archie  said  to  him  : 


26 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


>y 


**Do  you  know,  you  would  try  the  patience  of  a 
saint !    Verily  I  don't  know  what  to  do  with  you." 

'*  But  you  have  a  way  out  of  your  difficulties,"  an- 
swered Jules.  "  My  skin  itches  ;  give  me  a  good  hiding, 
and  I'll  leave  you  in  peace.  That  will  be  easy  enough 
for  you,  you  young  Hercules." 

Lochiel,  indeed,  accustomed  from  his  infancy  to  the 
trying  sports  of  the  young  Highlanders,  was  at  fourteen 
marvelously  strong  for  his  years. 

"  Do  you  think,  exclaimed  Archie,  "  that  I  am  such 
a  cowardias  to  strike  a  boy  younger  and  weaker  than 
myself?'^ 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Jules  ;  "  I  see  we  agree  on  that  score 
— never  a  knock  for  a  little  fellow.  What  suits  me  is  a 
good  tussle  with  a  fellow  of  my  own  age,  or  even  a  little 
older ;  then  shake  hands  and  think  no  more  about  it. 
By  the  way,"  continued  Jules,  "  you  know  that  comical 
dog  De  Chavigny  ">  He  is  older  than  I  am,  but  so  weak 
and  miserable  that  I  have  never  had  the  heart  to  punch 
him,  although  he  has  played  me  such  a  trick  as  even 
St.  Francis  himself  would  hardly  pardon.  Just  think  of 
him  running  to  me  all  out  of  breath  and  exclaiming : 
*  I've  just  snatched  an  egg  from  that  greedy  Letourneau, 
who  had  stolen  it  out  of  the  refectory.  Here,  hide  it ; 
he's  after  me ! ' 

Where  do  you  want  me  to  hide  it  ? '  said  I. 
Oh,  in  your  hat,*  he  answered  ;  *  he'll  never  think 
of  looking  for  it  there.* 

"  As  for  me,  I  was  fool  enough  to  do  it.  I  ought  to 
have  mistrusted  him. 

**  In  a  moment  Letourneau  came  up  and  jammed 
my  cap  down  over  my  eyes.  The  accursed  egg  near- 
ly blinded  me,  and  I  swear  did  not  smell  like  a  rose- 
garden!  It  was  an  addled  egg  found  by  Chavigny 
in  a  nest  which  the  hen  had  probably  abandoned  a 


<<  i 


« ( 


i-w*N<S^i  Jw  *•■  "'ft^^jiiWWHi* 


^<v^j)|g^U'«, 


UHABERVILLE  AND   CAMERON  OF  LOCHIEL. 


27 


y 


month  before.  I  got  out  of  that  mess  with  the  loss  of 
a  cap,  a  vest,  and  other  garments.  Well,  after  the  first 
of  my  fury  was  over,  I  could  not  help  laughing  ;  and  if 
I  bear  him  any  grudge  at  all,  it  is  for  having  got  ahead 
of  me  with  so  neat  a  trick.  I  should  love  to  get  it  off 
on  Derome,  who  keeps  his  hair  so  charmingly  powdered. 
As  for  Letourneau,  since  he  was  too  stupid  to  have  in- 
vented the  trick  myself,  I  contented  myself  with  say- 
ing to  him,  '  Blessed  are  they  of  little  wit ' ;  and  he 
professed  himself  proud  of  the  comolimmt,  being  glad 
enough,  after  all,  to  get  off  so  cheaply. 

"And  now,  my  dear  Archie,"  continued  Jules,  "let 
us  come  to  terms.  I  am  a  kindly  potentate,  and  my 
conditions  shall  be  most  easy.  To  please  you,  I  under- 
take, on  the  word  of  a  gentleman,  to  diminish  by  one 
third  those  tricks  of  mine  which  you  lack  the  good 
taste  to  appreciate.  Come,  now,  you  ought  to  be  satis- 
fied with  that  if  you  are  not  utterly  unreasonable,  for 
you  see,  my  dear  boy,  I  love  you.  I  would  not  have 
made  peace  with  any  one  else  on  such  advantageous 
terms." 

Lochiel  could  not  help  laughing  as  he  shook  the 
irrepressible  lad.  It  was  from  this  conversation  that 
the  friendship  between  the  two  boys  took  its  beginning 
— on  Archie's  part  with  a  truly  Scottish  restraint,  on  the 
side  of  Jules  with  the  passionate  warmth  of  which  the 
French  heart  is  capable. 

A  few  weeks  later,  about  a  month  before  the  vaca- 
tion, which  began  then  on  the  15th  of  August,  Jules 
seized  his  friend's  arm  and  whispered  : 

"  Come  into  my  room.  I  have  just  had  a  letter  from 
father  which  concerns  you." 

"  Concerns  me  !  "  exclaimed  the  other  in  astonish- 
ment. 

"Why  are  you   surprised?"  retorted   D'Haberville. 


28 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


**  Do  you  think  you  are  not  of  sufficient  importance  for 
any  on«  to  concern  himself  about  you  ?  Why,  all  New 
France  is  talking  about  the  handsome  Scotchman.  The 
mammas,  fearing  your  influence  on  the  imflammable 
hearts  of  their  daughters,  talk  seriously  of  petitioning  our 
principal  never  to  let  you  appear  in  public  except  with 
a  veil  on,  like  the  women  of  the  East." 

"  Come,  stop  your  fooling,  and  let  me  go  on  with  my 
reading." 

"  But  I  am  very  much  in  earnest,"  said  Ju^es.  And, 
dragging  his  friend  along  with  him,  he  read  him  part  of 
a  letter  from  his  father,  which  ran  as  follows  : 

•'What  you  tell  mc  about  your  young  friend,  Master  de  Lochiel, 
interests  me  very  much.  I  grant  your  request  with  the  greatest 
pleasure.  Give  him  my  compliments,  and  beg  him  to  come  and  spend 
his  next  vacation  with  us,  and  all  his  vacations  so  long  as  he  is  at- 
tending college.  If  he  does  not  consider  this  invitation  sufficiently 
formal,  I  will  write  to  him  myself.  His  father  sleeps  upon  a  glori- 
ous field.  Soldiers  are  brothers  eveiywhere  ;  so  should  their  sons 
be  likewise.  Let  him  come  to  our  own  hearth-stone,  and  our  hearts 
shall  open  to  him  as  to  one  of  our  own  blood." 

Archie  was  so  affected  by  the  warmth  of  this  invita- 
tion that  for  some  moments  he  could  not  answer. 

"  Come,  my  haughty  Scotlander,  will  you  do  us  the 
honor  ? "  said  his  friend.  **  Or  must  my  father  send,  on 
a  special  embassy,  his  chief  butler,  Jose  Dub^,  with 
the  bagpipes  slung  on  his  bad:  in  the  form  of  a  St. 
Andrew's  cross — as  is  the  custom,  I  believe,  among  your 
Highland  chiefs — to  present  you  his  invitation  with  all 
due  formality  ? " 

"  As,  fortunately,  I  am  no  longer  in  my  Highlands," 
said  Archie,  laughing,  "  we  can  dispense  with  these  for- 
malities. I  shall  write  at  once  to  Captain  d'Haberville, 
and  thank  him  with  my  whole  heart  for  his  noble  gen- 
erosity to  the  exiled  orphan." 


nHABERVILLE  AI:D  CAMERON  OF  LOCHIEL. 


29 


"  Then,  let  us  speak  reasonably  for  once,"  said  Jules, 
"  if  only  for  the  novelty  of  the  thing.  You  think  me  very 
light,  silly,  and  scatter-brained.  I  acknowledge  that 
there  is  a  little  of  all  that  in  me,  which  does  not  prevent 
me  from  being  in  earnest  more  often  than  you  think.  I 
have  long  been  seeking  a  friend,  a  true  and  high-hearted 
friend.  I  have  watched  you  very  closely,  and  I  find  you 
all  T  could  wish.     Lochiel,  will  you  be  my  friend  ?" 

"Without  a  moment's  question,  my  dear  boy,"  an- 
swered Archie,  "  for  I  have  always  felt  strongly  attracted 
toward  you." 

"Well,  then,"  cried  Jules,  grasping  his  hand  warmly, 
"  it  is  for  life  and  death  with  us  Lochiel !  " 

Thus,  between  a  boy  of  twelve  and  a  boy  of  fourteen, 
was  ratified  a  friendship  which  in  the  sequel  will  be  ex- 
posed to  the  crudest  tests. 

"  Here's  a  letter  from  mother,"  said  Jules,  "  in  which 
there  is  a  word  for  you  "  : 

"  I  hope  your  friend,  Master  de  Lochiel,  will  do  us  the  pleasure 
of  accepting  your  father's  invitation.  We  are  ail  eager  to  meet  him. 
His  room  is  ready,  alongside  of  your  own.  In  the  box  which  Jose 
will  hand  you  there  is  a  parcel  for  him  which  he  would  grieve  me 
greatly  by  refusing.  In  sending  it  I  am  thinking  of  tlie  mother  he 
has  lost." 

The  box  contained  equal  shares  for  the  two  boys  of 
cakes,  sweetmeats,  jams,  and  other  dainties. 

The  friendship  between  the  two  boys  grew  stronger 
day  by  day.  They  became  inseparable.  Their  college- 
mates  dubbed  them  variously  Damon  and  Pythias,  Ores- 
tes and  Pylades,  Nisus  and  Euryalus.  At  last  they 
called  them  the  brothers. 

All  the  time  Lochiel  was  at  college  he  spent  his 
vacations  with  the  D'Habervilles,  who  made  no  differ- 
ence between  the  two  boys  unless  to  lavish  the  more 
marked  attentions  upon  the  young  Scotchman  who  had 


30 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


become  as  it  were  a  son  of  the  house.  It  was  most 
natural,  then,  that  Archie,  before  sailing  for  Europe, 
should  accompany  Jules  on  his  farewell  visit  to  his 
father's  house. 

The  friendship  between  the  two  young  men,  as  we 
have  already  said,  is  destined  to  be  put  to  the  bitterest 
trial,  when  that  code  of  honor  which  has  been  substi- 
tuted by  civilization  for  the  truest  sentiments  of  the 
human  heart,  shall  come  to  teach  them  the  obligations 
of  men  who  are  fighting  under  hostile  flags.  But  why 
anticipate  the  dark  future  ?  Have  they  not  enjoyed 
daring  almost  ten  years  of  college  life  the  passing  griefs, 
the  little  jealousies,  the  eager  pleasures,  the  differences 
and  ardent  reconciliations  which  characterize  a  boyish 
friendship  ? 


CHAPTER   IIL 

A   NIGHT    WITH    THE  SORCERERS. 

Anpjels  and  ministeis  of  grace,  defend  us  ! 

Be  thou  a  spirit  of  health,  or  goblin  damned, 

Bring  with  thee  airs  from  heaven,  or  blasts  from  hell. 

Hamlet. 

Ecoute  comme  les  bois  crient.  I,es  hiboux  fuient  ^pouvantes.  .  .  . 
Entends-tu  ces  voix  dans  les  hauteurs,  dans  le  lointain,  ou  pres  de  nous  ? 
...  Eh  !  oui !  la  montagne  retentit,  dans  toute  sa  longueur,  d'un  furieux 
chant  magique.  Faust. 

Lest  bogles  catch  him  unawares.  .  .  . 

Where  ghaits  and  howlets  nightly  cry.  .  .  . 

When  out  the  hellish  legion  sallied. 

Burns. 

As  soon  as  our  young  travelers,  crossing  the  St. 
Lawrence  opposite  Quebec,  have  reached  Point  L^vis, 
Jos^  makes  haste  to  harness  a  splendid  Norman  horse 
into  one  of  those  low  sledges  which  furnish  the  only 
means  of  transport,  at  this  season,  when  the  roads  are 
only  covered  here  and  there  with  snow  or  ice,  and  when 
overflowing  streams  intercept  the  way  at  intervals.  When 
they  come  to  one  of  these  obstacles  Jose  unharnesses  the 
horse,  all  three  mount,  and  the  brook  is  speedily  forded. 
It  is  true  that  Jules,  who  clasps  Jos^  around  the  waist, 
tries  every  now  and  then  to  throw  him  off,  at  the  risk  of 
partaking  with  him  the  luxury  of  a  bath  at  a  little  above 
zero.  He  might  as  well  have  tried  to  throw  Cape  Tour- 
mente  into  the  St.  Lawrence.     Jos6,  who,  in  spite  of  his 


33 


^riE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


•comparatively  small  stature,  i,  as  ,fr 
laughs  .n  his  sleeve  and  pre,  nd  2^f  "'  '"  ^-^P"^^"'. 
brook  forded,  Josd  goes  WW  T  '"  "°"«  *'•  The 
t'-  horse,  climbs  inTo  the'd''  "t'^'^'  ^^'>"— 
f-  .  ^  of  him  lest  he  sho  fd  getif  1!"'  ''''  '^^^gage  i„ 
takes  his  fello,v-traveIers  fh  '  .  ' ''"''  'P'^^'"'/  over- 
rent in  their  march.         '        °  '^""^  "°'  halted  a  mo- 

Thanks  to  TuIp<5   fi,« 
'"eiourney.     LSe  doeTn^r'^r "'^^  ^''^^  <^-ng 
wutjcisms  that  Jules  p    ^etrt^at  h"  ''"''  "'"  ''' 

De  Beaumont  takes  supper  a^  t         °T-     ^y  ""<c'e 
00 late,  we  shall  probably  make!  ''  '^^  «^^  '^^^e 

hmgswill  Le  all  gobbled  ^f^vrk  ■""'•,  ''"^^  ^°°^ 
&/-</^  twV«//;^„^  <,^^^  „  "P-     "^o"  l^novv  the  proverb, 

"Scotch  hospitality  is  proverbial  "  .     >  • 
.  With  us  the  welcome  is  11^^!,  "claimed  Archie. 
■^  'he  cook's  business."  """  ^'^  °^  °''«ht.     That 

"Verily,"  said  Jules   "Th»r- 
my  own  eyes  •  were  itoH  "^  "  ^'  '^  ^  ^^w  it  with 

coated  cooks.  It  I  delfgh  full'  •  ""'  °'  '""'  P^^'' 
cookery  of  yours.  With  al^^^  ^.  '"^"'  ''''•'  ^^otch 
sodden  in  cold  wateT-i'  "  ^?"''"''  °^  ''^•"eal 
-^  coal  in  your  country-;:/::/^^  ""''''  -"'^ 
soup  at  little  cost  and  with   nn  ^"  ""<^"ent 

culinary  science,  and  fea  t  In,  ^''"  ^''P^nditure  of 
"'•ght  as  in  the  daytime  irr  ^"'^"^  ^' ^^"  '"  'he 
some  distinguished  person  Je  .  T'"  '™'  "'^''  ^^en 
*hich  often  happens  sW^«  f'  ^°"'  hospitality- 
-ith  enough  coa^rms  to  C""  '^  '°^^^''  <^-n 
I  -y,  that  you  set  before  M^J'tV^""^'-"  '^  '-« 
-  soup,  the  head,  ^et;  o^r'r.  rut;^ :frhet 


A   NIGHT   WITH   THE  SOI^CEI^ERS. 


33 


with  salt  for  sauce  ;  the  other  parts  of  the  animal  never 
seem  to  grow  in  Scotland." 

Lochiel  contented  himself  with  glancing  at  Jules 
over  hie  r  houlder  and  repeating  : 

"  '  Quis  talia  fando  Myrmidonum, 
Dolopumve ' — " 

**  What's  that  ?  "  exclaimed  Jules,  in  assumed  indig- 
nation ;  "  you  call  me  a  Myrmidon,  a  Dolopian — me.  the 
philosopher !  And,  moreover,  my  worthy  pedant,  you 
abuse  me  in  Latin — you  who  so  murder  the  accent  with 
your  Caledonian  tongue  that  Virgil  must  squirm  in  his 
grave  !  You  call  me  a  Myrmidon — me,  the  geometri- 
cian of  my  class !  You  remember  that  the  Professor  of 
Mathematics  predicted  that  I  should  be  another  Vau- 
ban— " 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  interrupted  Archie,  "  in  recognition 
of  your  famous  perpendicular  line,  which  leaned  so 
much  to  the  left  that  all  the  class  trembled  lest  it  should 
fall  and  crush  its  base  ;  seeing  which,  our  professor 
sought  to  console  you  by  predicting  that  your  services 
would  be  required  in  case  of  the  reconstruction  of  the 
Tower  of  Pisa." 

Jules  struck  a  tragic  attitude  and  cried  : 

*•  *  Tu  t'en  souviens,  Cinna !  et  veux  m'assassiner.' 

"  You  are  going  to  stab  me  upon  the  king's  highway, 
beside  this  mighty  St.  Lawrence,  untouched  by  all  the 
beauty  of  nature  which  surrounds  us  —  untouched  by 
yon  lovely  cascade  of  Montmorency,  which  the  habitants 
call  *The  Cow,'  a  title  very  much  the  reverse  of  poetic, 
but  which,  nevertheless,  expresses  well  enough  the  ex- 
quisite whiteness  of  the  stream  which  leaps  from  its 
bosom  like  I'he  rich  and  foaming  flow  from  the  milch- 
cow's  udder.  You  are  going  to  stab  me  right  in  sight  of 
3 

7  ^      ^ 


34 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


the  Isle  of  Orleans,  which,  as  we  go  on,  conceals  from 
our  view  the  lovely  waterfall  which  I  have  so  poetically 
described !  Heartless  wretch  !  will  nothing  make  you  re- 
lent— not  even  the  sight  Of  poor  Jos^  here,  who  is  touched 
by  all  this  wisdom  and  eloquence  in  one  so  young,  as 
Fenelon  would  have  said  could  he  have  written  my  ad- 
ventures ? " 

"Do  you  know,"  interrupted  Archie,  "you  are  at 
least  as  remarkable  in  poetry  as  you  are  in  geometry  ?  " 

••  Who  can  doubt  it  ?  "  answered  Jules.  "  No  matter, 
my  perpendicular  made  you  all  laugh  and  myself  most 
of  all.  You  know,  however,  that  that  was  only  another 
trick  of  that  scamp  De  Chavigny,  wl  o  had  stolen  my 
exercise  and  rolled  up  another  m  place  of  it,  which  I 
handed  in  to  the  teacher.  You  all  pretended  not  to 
believe  me,  since  you  were  but  too  glad  to  see  the 
trickster  tricked." 

Jos^,  who  ordinarily  took  little  part  in  the  young 
men's  conversation,  and  who,  moreover,  had  been  unable 
to  understand  what  they  had  just  been  talking  about, 
now  began  to  mutter  under  his  breath  : 

"  What  a  queer  kind  of  a  country  that,  where  the 
sheep  have  only  heads,  feet,  and  tails,  and  not  even  a 
handful  of  a  body  !  But,  after  all,  it  is  none  of  my  busi- 
ness; the  men  who  are  the  masters  will  fix  things  to 
suit  themselves ;  but  I  can't  help  thinking  of  the  poor 
horses  !  " 

Jos^,  who  was  a  regular  jockey,  had  a  most  tender 
consideration  for  these  noble  beasts.  Then,  turning  to 
Archie,  he  touched  his  cap  and  said  : 

"  Saving  your  presence,  sir,  if  the  gentry  themselves 
eat  all  the  oats  in  your  country,  which  is  because  they 
have  nothing  better  to  eat,  I  suppose,  what  do  the  poor 
horses  do  ?  They  require  to  be  well  fed  if  they  do  much 
hard  work."   . 


A  NIGHT   WITH  THE  SORCEHERS. 


35 


The  young  men  burst  out  laughing.  Jos^,  a  little 
abashed  by  their  ridicule,  exclaimed  : 

*•  Excuse  me  if  I  have  said  anything  foolish.  One 
may  make  mistakes  without  being  drunk,  just  like  Mas- 
ter Jules  there,  who  was  telling  you  that  the  habitants 
call  Montmorency  Falls  *  The  Cow  '  because  their  foam 
is  white  as  milk.  Now,  I  have  a  suspicion  that  it  is  be- 
cause they  bellow  like  a  cow  in  certain  winds.     At  least 

that  is  what  the  old  bodies  say  when  they  get  Chatter- 
is,^ '» 
ing. 

"Don't  be  angry,  old  boy,"  answered  Jules,  "you 
are  probably  quite  right.  We  were  laughing  because 
you  thought  there  were  horses  in  Scotland.  The  ani- 
mal is  unknown  in  that  country." 

"  What !  no  horses,  sir  }  What  do  the  folks  do  when 
they  want  to  travel  ? " 

"Wher  I  say  no  horses,"  answered  D'Haberville, 
**  you  must  not  understand  me  too  literally.  They  have 
an  animal  resembling  our  horses,  but  not  much  taller 
than  my  big  dog  Niger.  It  lives  in  the  mountains,  wild 
as  our  caribous,  and  not  altogether  unlike  them.  When 
a  Highlander  wants  to  travel,  he  sounds  his  bagpipe ; 
all  the  villagers  gather  together  and  he  unfolds  to  them 
his  project.  Then  they  scatter  through  the  woods,  or 
rather  through  the  heather,  and  after  a  day  or  two  of 
toil  and  tribulation  they  succeed,  occasionally,  in  capt- 
uring one  of  these  charming  beasts  ;  then,  after  another 
day  or  two,  if  the  brute  is  not  too  obstinate,  and  if  the 
Highlander  has  enough  patience,  he  sets  out  on  his 
journey,  and  sometimes  even  succeeds  in  coming  to  the 
end  of  it." 

**Well,  I  must  say,"  retorted  Lochiel,  "you  are  a 
pretty  one  to  be  making  fun  of  my  Highlanders  !  You 
have  good  right  to  be  proud  of  this  princely  turn-out  of 
your  own  !     It  will  be  hard  for  posterity  to  believe  that 


\ 


36 


THE  CANADIAXS  OF  OLD. 


the  high  and  mighty  lord  of  D'Haberville  sends  for  his 
son  and  heir  in  a  sort  of  dung-cart  without  wheels  ! 
Do"btless  he  will  send  some  outriders  on  ahead  of  us,  in 
order  that  nothing  shall  be  lacking  in  our  triumphal  ap- 
proach to  the  manor  of  St.  Jean  Port  Joli  ! " 

"  Well  done,  Lochiel !  you  are  saved,  brother  mine," 
cried  Jules.  "A  very  neat  home  thrust.  Claws  for 
claws,  as  one  of  your  Scottish  saints  exclaimed 
one  day,  when  he  was  having  a  scrimmage  with  the 
devil." 

Jos^,  during  this  discussion,  was  scratching  his  head 
disconsolately.  Like  Caleb  Balderstone,  in  The  Bride  of 
Lammcrmoor,  he  was  very  sensitive  on  all  subjects 
touching  his  master's  honor. 

"  What  a  wretched  fool  I  am !  "  he  cried  in  a  piteous 
voice.  "  It  is  all  my  fault.  The  seigneur  has  four  carry- 
alls in  his  coach-house,  of  which  two  are  brand  new  and 
varnished  up  like  fiddles,  so  that  I  used  one  for  a  look- 
ing-glass last  Sunday.  So,  then,  when  the  seigneur  said 
to  me  yesterday  morning,  *  Get  ready,  Jos^,  for  you  must 
go  to  Quebec  to  fetch  my  son  and  his  friend  Mr.  de 
Lochiel ;  see  that  you  take  a  proper  carriage ' — I,  like 
a  fool,  said  to  myself  that  when  the  roads  were  so  bad 
the  only  thing  to  take  was  a  sled  like  this !  Oh,  yes,  I'm 
in  for  a  good  scolding  !  I  shall  get  off  cheap  if  I  have 
to  do  without  my  brandy  for  a  moiuh !  At  three 
drinks  a  day,"  added  Jos^,  "  that  will  make  a  loss 
of  ninety  good  drinks,  without  counting  extras.  But 
it's  all  the  same  to  me ;  I'll  take  my  punishment  like  a 
man." 

The  young  men  were  greatly  amused  at  Josh's  in- 
genious lying  for  the  honor  of  his  master. 

"  Now,"  said  Archie,  "  since  you  seem  to  have  emp- 
tied your  budget  of  all  the  absurdities  that  a  hair-brained 
French  head  can  contain,  try  and  speak  seriously,  and 


A   NIG/IT   WITH  THE    >ORCERERS, 


37 


tell  mc  why  the  Isle  of  Orleans  is  called  the  Isle  of  the 
Sorcerers." 

"  For  the  very  simple  reason,"  answered  Jules,  "  that 
a  great  many  sorcerers  live  there." 

"There  you  begin  again  with  your  nonsense,"  said 
Lochiel. 

"I  am  in  earnest,"  said  Jules.  "These  Scotch  are 
unbearably  conceited.  They  can't  acknowledge  any 
excellence  in  other  nations.  Do  you  think,  my  dear 
fellow,  that  Scotland  has  the  monopoly  of  witches  and 
wizards  ?  I  would  beg  you  to  know  that  we  too  have 
our  sorcerers  ;  and  that  two  hours  ago,  between  Point 
L6vis  and  Beaumont,  I  might  as  easily  as  not  have  in- 
troduced you  to  a  very  respectable  sorceress.  I  would 
have  you  know,  moreover,  that  on  the  estate  of  my 
illustrious  father  you  shall  see  a  witch  of  the  most  re- 
markable skill.  The  difference  is,  my  dear  boy,  that  in 
Scotland  you  burn  them,  while  here  we  treat  them  in  a 
manner  fitting  their  power  and  social  influence.  Ask 
Jos6  if  I  am  not  telling  the  truth  ?  *' 

Jos^  did  not  fail  to  confirm  all  he  said.  In  his  eyes 
the  witches  of  Beaumont  and  St.  Jean  Port  Joli  were 
genuine  and  mighty  sorceresses. 

"But  to  speak  seriously,"  continued  Jules,  "since 
you  would  make  a  reasonable  man  of  me,  nolens  volens, 
as  my  sixth-form  master  used  to  say  when  he  gave  me  a 
dose  of  the  strap,  I  believe  the  fable  takes  its  rise  from 
the  fact  that  the  habitants  on  the  north  and  south  shores 
of  the  river,  seeing  the  islanders  on  dark  nights  go  out 
fishing  with  torches,  mistake  their  lights  for  will-o'-the- 
wisps.  Then,  you  know  that  our  country  folk  regard 
the  will-o'-the-wisps  as  witches,  or  as  evil  spirits  who 
endeavor  to  lure  the  wandering  wretch  to  his  death. 
They  even  profess  to  hear  them  laugh  when  the  deluded 
traveler  falls  into  the  quagmire.    The  truth  is,  that  there 


38 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD, 


IS  an  inflammable  gas  continually  escaping  from  our  bogs 
and  swampy  places,  from  which  to  the  hobgoblins  and 
sorcerers  is  but  a  single  step." 

"Impossible/*  said  Archie;  "your  logic  is  at  fault, 
as  the  professor  so  often  had  to  tell  you.  You  see  the 
inhabitants  of  the  north  and  south  shores  themselves  go 
fishing  with  torches,  whence,  according  to  your  reasoning, 
the  islanders  should  have  called  them  sorcerers  ;  which 
is  not  the  case." 

While  Jules  was  shaking  his  head,  with  no  answer 
ready,  Jos^  took  up  the  word. 

"  If  you  would  let  me  speak,  gentlemen,  I  might  ex- 
plain your  difficulty  by  telling  you  what  happened  to 
my  late  father  who  is  now  dead." 

**  Oh,  by  all  means,  tell  us  that  ;  tell  us  what  hap- 
pened to  your  late  father  who  is  now  dead,"  cried  Jules, 
with  a  marked  emphasis  on  the  last  four  words. 

*'  Yes,  my  dear  Jose,  do  us  the  favor  of  telling  us 
about  it,"  added  Lochiel. 

"  I  can't  half  tell  the  story,"  answered  Jos^,  "  for, 
you  see,  I  have  neither  the  fine  accent  nor  the  splendid 
voice  of  my  lamented  parent.  When  he  used  to  tell  us 
what  happened  to  him  in  his  vigil,  our  bodies  would 
shake  so,  as  if  with  ague,  as  would  do  you  good  to  see. 
But  I'll  do  my  best  to  satisfy  you  : 

"  It  happened  one  day  that  my  late  father,  who  is 
now  dead,  had  left  the  city  for  home  somewhat  late.  He 
had  even  diverted  himself  a  little,  so  to  speak,  with  his 
acquaintances  in  Point  Levis.  Like  an  honest  man,  he 
loved  his  drop  ;  and  on  his  journeys  he  always  carried  a 
flask  of  brandy  in  his  dogfish-skin  satchel.  They  say 
the  liquor  is  the  milk  for  old  men." 

^*  Lac  duke,*'  interjected  Archie,  sententiously. 

**  Begging  your  pardon,  Mr.  Archie,"  answered  Jos6, 
with  some  warmth,  "  it  was  neither  sweet  water  (de  Veau 


-—\-^_ 


A  NIGHT   WITH   THE   SORCERERS. 


39 


i 


douce)  nor  lake-water  (eau  de  lac)^  but  very  good,  un- 
adulterated brandy  which  my  late  father,  now  dead,  was 
carrying  in  his  satchel." 

"  Capital,  upon  my  word  !  "  cried  Jules.  "  It  serves 
you  right  for  your  perpetual  Latin  quotations  !  " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Jos^,"  said  Lochiel,  very  seri- 
ously. "  I  intended  not  the  shadow  of  disrespect  to 
your  late  father." 

"  You  are  excused,  sir,"  said  Jose,  entirely  mollified. 
**  It  happened  that  it  was  quite  dark  when  my  father  at 
last  got  under  way.  His  friends  did  their  best  to  keep 
him  all  night,  telling  him  that  he  would  have  to  pass,  all 
by  himself,  the  iron  cage  wherein  La  Corriveau  did  pen- 
ance for  having  killed  her  husband. 

"You  saw  it  yourselves,  gentlemen,  when  leaving 
Point  L^vis  at  one  o'clock.  She  was  quiet  then  in  her 
cage,  the  wicked  creature,  with  her  eyeless  skull.  But 
ne/er  you  trust  to  her  being  blind.  She  is  a  cunning 
one,  you  had  better  believe !  If  she  can't  see  in  the 
daytime,  she  knows  well  enough  how  to  find  her  way 
to  torment  poor  folks  at  night.  Well,  as  for  my  lave 
father,  who  was  as  brave  as  his  captain's  sword,  he  told 
his  friends  that  he  didn't  care — that  he  didn't  owe  La 
Corriveau  a  farthing— with  a  heap  more  reasons  which  I 
can  not  remember  now.  He  put  the  whip  to  his  horse, 
a  fine  brute  that  could  travel  like  the  wind,  and  was 
gone  in  a  second. 

"  As  he  was  passing  the  skeleton,  he  thought  he  heard 
a  noise,  a  sort  of  wailing;  but,  as  a  heavy  southwest 
wind  was  blowing,  be  made  up  his  mind  it  was  only  the 
gale  whistling  through  the  bones  of  the  corpse.  It  gave 
him  a  kind  of  a  start,  nevertheless,  and  he  took  a  good  pull 
at  the  flask  to  brace  himself  up.  All  things  considered, 
however,  as  he  said  to  himself,  Christians  should  be  ready 
to  help  each  other  ;  perhaps  the  poor  creature  was  want- 


40 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


I'j 


ing  his  prayers.  He  took  off  his  cap  and  devoutly  re- 
cited a  de  profundis  for  her  benefit,  thinking  that,  if  it 
didn't  do  her  any  good,  it  could  at  least  do  her  no  harm, 
and  that  he  himself  would  be  the  better  for  it.  Well, 
then  he  kept  on  as  fast  as  he  could  ;  but,  for  all  that,  he 
heard  a  queer  sound  behind  him — tic-tac,  tic-tac,  like  a 
piece  of  iron  striking  on  the  stones.  He  thought  it  was 
the  tire  of  his  wheel,  or  some  piece  of  the  wagon,  that 
had  come  unfastened.  He  got  out  to  see,  but  found 
everything  snug-  He  touched  the  horse  to  make  up  for 
lost  time,  but  after  a  little  he  heard  again  that  tic-tac, 
tic-tac,  on  the  stones.  Being  brave,  he  didn't  pay  much 
attention. 

"When  he  got  to  the  high  ground  of  St.  Michel, 
which  we  passed  a  little  way  back,  he  grew  very  drowsy. 
*  After  all,*  said  my  late  father,  *  a  man  is  not  a  dog  !  let 
us  take  a  little  nap ;  we'll  both  be  the  better  for  it,  my 
horse  and  I.'  Well,  he  unharnessed  his  horse,  tied  his 
legs  so  he  would  not  wander  too  far,  and  said :  *  There, 
my  pet,  there's  good  grass,  and  you  can  hear  the  brook 
yonder.     Good-night.' 

"  As  my  late  father  crawled  himself  into  the  wagon  to 
keep  out  of  the  dew,  it  struck  him  to  wonder  what  time 
it  was.  After  studying  the  *  Three  Kings '  to  the  south- 
*ard  and  the  *  Wagon '  to  the  north'ard,  he  made  up  his 
mind  it  must  be  midnight.  *  It  is  time,'  said  he,  *  for 
honest  men  to  be  in  bed.* 

"  Suddenly,  however,  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  Isle  d'Or- 
16ans  was  on  fire.  He  spran-  over  the  ditch,  leaned  on 
the  fence,  opened  his  eyes  wide,  and  stared  with  all  his 
might.  He  saw  at  last  that  the  flames  were  dancing  up 
and  down  the  shore,  as  if  all  the  will-o'-the-wisps,  all  the 
damned  souls  of  Canada,  were  gathered  there  to  hold  the 
witches'  sabbath.  He  stared  so  hard  that  his  eyes  which 
had  grown  a  little  dim  grew  very  clear  again,  and  he 


A   NIGHT   WITH  THE  SORCERERS. 


41 


saw  a  curious  sight ;  you  would  have  said  they  were  a 
kind  of  men,  a  queer  breed  altogether.  They  had  a 
head  big  as  a  peck  measure,  topped  off  with  a  pointed 
cap  a  yard  long;  then  they  had  arms,  legs,  feet,  and 
hands  armed  with  long  claws,  but  no  body  to  speak  of. 
Their  crotch,  begging  your  pardon,  gentlemen,  was  split 
right  up  to  their  ears.  They  had  scarcely  anything  in 
the  way  of  flesh  ;  they  were  kind  of  all  bone,  like  skele- 
tons. Every  one  of  these  pretty  fellows  had  his  upper 
lip  split  like  a  rabbit's,  and  through  the  split  stuck  out  a 
rhinoceros  tusk  a  foot  long,  like  you  see,  Mr.  Archie,  in 
your  book  of  unnatural  history.  As  for  the  nose,  it  was 
nothing  more  nor  less,  begging  your  pardon,  than  a  long 
pig's  snout,  which  they  would  rub  first  on  one  side  and 
ihen  on  the  other  of  their  great  tusk,  perhaps  to  sharpen 
it.  I  almost  forgot  to  say  that  they  had  a  long  tail, 
twice  as  long  as  a  cow's,  which  they  used,  I  suppose,  to 
keep  off  the  flies. 

"  The  funniest  <^hing  of  all  was  that  there  were  but 
three  eyes  to  every  couple  of  imps.  Those  that  had  but 
one  eye,  in  the  middle  of  the  forehead,  like  those  Cy- 
clopes that  your  uncle,  who  is  a  learned  man,  Mr.  Jules, 
used  to  read  to  us  about  out  of  that  big  book  of  his,  all 
Lati^^  like  the  priest's  prayer-book,  which  he  called  his 

Vir^n! -those  that  had  but  one  eye  1  eld  each  by  the  claw 

two  nov)  es  with  the  proper  number  of  eyes.  Out  of  all 
these  eyes  spurted  the  flames  which  lit  up  Isle  d'Orl^ans 
like  broad  day.  The  novices  seemed  very  respectful  to 
their  companions,  who  were,  as  one  might  say,  half 
blind  ;  they  bowed  down  to  them,  they  fawned  upon 
them,  they  fluttered  their  arms  and  legs,  just  like  good 
Christians  dancing  the  minuet. 

"  The  eyes  of  my  late  father  were  fairly  starting  out  of 
his  head.  It  was  worse  and  worse  when  they  began  to 
jump  and  dance  without  moving  from  their  places,  and 


42 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


1 


to  chant  in  a  voice  as  hoarse  as  that  of  a  choking  row, 

this  song : 

"  Iloary  Fri:ker,  Goblin  gay, 

Long-nosed  Neighbor,  come  away  ! 

Come  my  Grumbler  in  the  mud, 

Brother  Frog  of  tainted  blood  ! 

Come,  and  on  this  juicy  Christian 

Let  us  feast  it  while  we  may  !  " 


"  *  Ah !  the  accursed  heathens,'  exclaimed  my  late 
father,  *  an  honest  man  can  not  be  sure  of  his  property 
for  a  moment!  Not  satisfied  with  having  stolen  my 
favorite  song,  which  I  always  keep  to  wind  up  with  at 
weddings  and  feasts,  just  see  how  they've  played  the 
devil  with  it !  One  would  hardly  recognize  it.  It  is 
Christians  instead  of  good  wine  that  they  are  going  to 
treat  themselves  to,  the  scoundrels  !  * 

"  Then  the  imps  went  on  with  their  hellish  song,  glar- 
ing at  my  late  father,  and  curling  their  long  snouts 
around  their  great  rhinoceros  tusks  : 

"  Come,  my  tricksy  Traveler's  Guide, 
Devil's  Minion  true  and  tried. 
Come,  my  Sucking-Pig,  my  Simple, 
Brother  Wart  and  Brother  Pimple  ; 
Here's  a  fat  and  juicy  Frenchman 
To  be  pickled,  to  be  fried  !  " 


(( ( 


AH  that  I  can  say  to  you  just  now,  my  darlings,* 
cried  my  late  father,  '  is  that  if  you  get  no  more  fat  to 
eat  than  what  I'm  going  to  bring  you  on  my  lean  car- 
cass you'll  hardly  need  to  skim  your  broth.* 

"The  goblins,  however,  seemed  to  be  expecting 
something,  for  they  kept  turning  their  heads  every  mo- 
ment. My  late  father  looked  in  the  same  direction. 
What  was  that  he  saw  on  the  hill-side  ?  A  mighty  devil, 
built  like  the  rest,  but  as  long  as  the  steeple  St.  Michel,' 


A   NIGHT    WITH  THE   SORCERERS. 


43 


which  we  passed  awhile  back.  Instead  of  the  pointed 
bonnet,  he  wore  a  three-horned  hat,  topped  with  a  big 
thorn  bush  in  place  of  a  feather.  He  had  but  one  eye, 
blacliguard  that  he  was,  but  that  was  as  good  as  a  dozen. 
He  was  doubtless  the  drum-major  of  the  regiment,  for  he 
held  in  his  hand  a  saucepan  twice  as  big  as  our  maple- 
sugar  kettles,  which  hold  twenty  gallons,  and  in  the 
other  hand  a  bell-clapper,  which  no  doubt  the  dog  of  a 
heretic  had  stolen  from  some  church  before  its  conse- 
cration. He  pounded  on  his  saucepan,  and  all  the 
scoundrels  began  to  laugh,  to  jump,  to  flutter,  nodding 
to  my  late  father  as  if  inviting  him  to  come  and  amuse 
himself  with  them. 

"  *  You'll  wait  a  long  time,  my  lambs,'  thought  my  late 
father  to  himself,  his  teeth  chattering  in  his  head  as  if 
he  had  the  shaking  fever — *  you  will  wait  a  long  time, 
my  gentle  lambs.  I'm  not  in  any  hurry  to  quit  the  good 
Lord's  earth  to  live  with  the  goblins ! ' 

"Suddenly  the  tall  devil  uegan  to  sing  a  hellish 
round,  accompanying  himself  on  the  saucepan,  which 
he  beat  furiously,  and  all  the  goblins  darted  away  like 
lightning — so  fast,  indeed,  that  it  took  them  less  than  a 
minute  to  go  all  the  way  around  the  island.  My  poor 
late  father  was  so  stupefied  by  the  hubbub  that  he  could 
not  remember  more  than  three  verses  of  the  song,  which 
ran  like  this : 

"  Here's  the  spot  that  suits  us  well 
When  it  gets  too  hot  in  hell— 
Toura-loura ; 
Here  we  go  all  round, 

Hands  all  round, 
Here  we  go  all  round. 


**  Come  along  and  stir  your  sticks, 
You  jolly  dogs  of  heretics — 
Toura-loura ; 


Aj^  THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD, 

Her(*  we  go  all  round, 

Hands  all  round, 
Here  we  go  all  round. 

"  Room  for  all,  there's  room  for  all 
That  skim  or  wriggle,  bounce  or  crawl — 
Toura-loura ; 
Here  we  go  all  round. 

Hands  ^11  round, 
Here  we  go  all  round." 

"My  late  father  was  in  a  cold  sweat;  he  had  not 
yet,  however,  come  to  the  worst  of  it." 

Here  Jos^  paused.  "  But  I  am  dying  for  a  smoke, 
and^  with  your  permission,  gentlemen,  I'll  light  my  pipe." 

"  Quite  right,  my  dear  Jose,"  answered  D'Haberville. 
"  For  my  own  part,  I  am  dying  for  something  else.  My 
stomach  declares  that  this  is  dinner -hour  at  college. 
Let's  have  a  bite  to  eat." 

Jules  enjoyed  the  privilege  of  aristocratic  descent — 
he  had  always  a  magnificent  appetite.  This  was  spe- 
cially excusable  to-day,  seeing  that  he  had  dined  at 
noon,  and  had  had  an  immense  deal  of  exercise  since. 


CHAPTER   IV. 


LA   CORRIVEAU. 

Sganarelle.— Seigneur  commandeur,  mon  maitre,  Don  Juan,  vous  de- 
mande  si  vous  voulez  lui  faire  I'honneur  de  venir  souper  avec  lui. 
Le  meme. — La  statue  m'a  fait  signe. 

Le  Festin  de  Pierre. 

What  ?  the  ghosts  are  growing  ruder, 
How  they  beard  me.  ... 

To-night— why  this  is  Goblin  Hall, 
Spirits  and  specters  all  in  all. 

Faustus. 

Josfe,  after  having  unbridled  the  horse  and  given  him 
what  he  called  a  mouthful  of  hay,  made  haste  to  open  a 
box  which  he  had  ingeniously  arranged  on  the  sled  to 
serve,  as  needs  might  be,  both  for  seat  and  larder.  He 
brought  out  a  great  napkin  in  which  were  wrapped  up 
two  roast  chickens,  a  tongue,  a  ham,  a  little  flask  of 
brandy,  a  good  big  bottle  of  wine.  He  v/as  going  to 
retire  when  Jules  said  to  him  : 

"  Come  along  and  take  a  bite  with  us,  Jos6." 
"  Yes,  indeed,  come  and  sit  here  by  me,"  said  Archie. 
V'Oh,  gentlemen,"  said  Jos6,  "I  know  my  place  too 
well—" 

"Come  now,  no  affectations,"  said  Jules.  "We  are 
here  like  three  soldiers  in  camp  ;  will  you  be  so  good  as 
to  come,  you  obstinate  fellow  ?  " 

"  Since  you  say  so,  gentlemen,  I  must  obey  my  offi- 
cers," answered  Jules. 


46 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD, 


The  two  young  men  seated  themselves  on  the  box 
which  served  them  also  for  a  table.  Jose  took  his  place 
very  comfortably  on  a  bundle  of  hay,  and  all  three  began 
to  eat  and  drink  with  a  hearty  appetite. 

Archie,  naturally  abstemious,  had  soon  finished  his 
meal.  Having  nothing  better  to  do,  he  began  to  philos- 
ophize. In  his  lighter  moods  he  loved  to  propound 
paradoxes  for  the  pleasure  of  the  argument. 

"  Do  you  know,  brother  mine,  what  it  was  that  inter- 
ested me  most  in  my  friend's  story  ? " 

"No,"  exclaimed  Jules,  attacking  another  drum- 
stick; "and  what's  more,  for  the  next  quarter  of  an 
hour  I  don't  care.     The  hungry  stomach  has  no  ears." 

**  Oh,  that's  no  matter,"  said  Archie.  **  It  was  those 
devils,  goblins,  spirits,  or  whatever  you  choose  to  call 
them,  with  only  one  eye  ;  I  wish  that  the  fashion  could 
be  adopted  among  men  ;  there  would  be  fewer  hypo- 
crites, fewer  rogues,  and  therefore  fewer  dupes.  Assur- 
edly, it  is  some  consolation  to  see  that  virtue  is  held  in 
honor  even  among  hobgoblins.  Did  you  notice  with 
what  respect  those  one-eyed  fellows  were  treated  by  the 
other  imps  ?  " 

"That  may  be,"  said  Jules,  "but  what  does  it 
prove  ? " 

"  It  proves,"  answered  Lochiel,  "  that  the  one-eyed 
fellows  deserved  the  special  attentions  that  were  paid 
them  ;  they  are  the  haute  noblesse  among  hobgoblins. 
Above  all  they  are  not  hypocrites." 

"  Nonsense,"  said  Jules,  "  I  begin  to  be  afraid  your 
brain  is  softening." 

"  Oh,  no,  I'm  not  so  crazy  as  you  think,"  answered 
Archie.  "Just  watch  a  hypocrite  with  somebody  he 
wants  to  deceive.  With  what  humility  he  keeps  one  eye 
half  shut  while  the  other  watches  the  effect  of  his  words. 
If  he  had  but  one  eye  he  would  lose  this  immense  ad% 


LA    CORRIVEAU, 


47 


>t 


;red 

he 

eye 

Irds. 

ad« 


vantage,  and  would  have  to  give  up  his  r^/e  of  hypocrite 
which  he  finds  so  profitable.  There,  you  see,  is  one  vice 
the  less.  My  Cyclops  of  a  hobgoblin  has  probably  many 
other  vices,  but  he  is  certainly  no  hypocrite  ;  whence 
the  respect  to  which  he  is  treated  by  a  class  of  beings 
stained  with  all  the  vices  in  the  category." 

"  Here's  your  health,  my  Scottish  philosopher,"  ex- 
claimed Jules,  tossing  off  a  glass  of  wine.  *'  Hanged  if 
I  understand  a  word  of  your  reasoning  though." 

"But  it's  clear  as  day,"  answered  Archie.  **  The 
heavy  and  indigestible  stuff  with  which  you  are  loading 
down  your  stomach  must  be  clogging  your  brains.  If 
you  ate  nothing  but  oatmeal,  as  we  Highlanders  do, 
your  ideas  would  be  a  good  deal  clearer." 

*'  That  oatmeal  seems  to  stick  in  your  throat,  my 
friend,"  said  Jules  ;  "  it  ought  to  be  easy  enough  to  di- 
gest, however,  even  without  the  help  of  sauce." 

"  Here's  another  example,"  said  Archie.  **  A  rogue 
who  wishes  to  cheat  an  honest  man  in  any  kind  of  a 
transaction  always  keeps  one  eye  winking  or  half  shut, 
while  the  other  watches  to  see  whether  he  is  gaining  or 
losing  in  the  trade.  One  eye  is  plotting  while  the  other 
watches.  That  is  a  vast  advantage  for  the  rogue.  His 
antagonist,  on  the  other  hand,  seeing  one  eye  clear, 
frank,  and  honest,  can  not  suspect  what  is  going  on  be- 
hind the  eye  which  blinks,  and  plots,  and  calculates, 
while  its  fellow  keeps  as  impenetrable  as  fate.  Now  let 
us  reverse  the  matter,"  continued  Archie.  "  Let  us  sup- 
pose the  same  rogue  in  the  same  circumstances,  but 
blind  of  one  eye.  The  honest  man  watching  his  face 
may  often  read  in  his  eye  his  inmost  thoughts ;  for  my 
Cyclops,  being  himself  suspicious,  is  constrained  to  keep 
his  one  eye  wide  open." 

** Rather,"  laughed  Jules,  "if  he  doesn't  want  to 
break  his  neck." 


48 


THE   CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


**  Granted,"  replied  Lcchiel,  *'  but  still  more  for  the 
purpose  of  reading  the  soul  of  him  he  wants  to  deceive. 
He  finds  it  necessary,  moreover,  to  give  his  eye  an  ex- 
pression of  candor  and  good-fellowship  in  order  to  di- 
vert suspicion — which  must  absorb  a  portion  of  his  wits. 
Then,  since  there  are  few  men  who  can  follow,  without 
the  help  of  both  their  eyes,  two  different  trains  of 
thought  at  the  same  time,  our  rogue  finds  that  he  has 
lost  half  of  his  advantage.  He  renounces  his  wicked 
calling,  and  society  is  the  richer  by  one  more  honest 
man." 

"  My  poor  Archie,"  murmured  Jules,  **  I  see  that  we 
have  exchanged  rdles ;  that  I  am  now  the  Scotch  phi- 
losopher, as  I  so  courteously  entitle  you,  while  you  are 
the  crazy  Frenchman,  as  you  irreverently  term  me. 
For,  don't  you  see,  my  new  Prometheus,  that  this  one- 
eyed  race  of  men,  endowed  with  all  the  virtues  which  you 
intend  to  substitute,  might  very  readily  blink,  if  that  is 
an  infallible  recipe  for  deception,  and  for  the  purpose 
of  taking  observations  just  open  their  eye  from  time  to 
time." 

"  Oh,  you  French,  you  frivolous  French,  you  deluded 
French,  no  wonder  the  English  catch  you  on  the  hip  in 
diplomacy ! " 

"  It  would  seem  to  me,"  interrupted  Jules,  "  that  the 
Scotch  ought  to  know  something  by  this  time  about 
English  diplomacy  ! " 

Archie's  face  saddened  and  grew  pale  ;  his  friend 
had  touched  a  sore  spot.  Jules  perceived  this  at  once 
and  said  : 

"  Forgive  me,  dear  fellow,  if  I  have  hurt  you.  I 
know  the  subject  is  one  that  calls  up  painful  memories. 
I  spoke,  as  usual,  without  thinking.  One  often  thought- 
lessly wounds  those  one  best  loves  by  a  retort  which 
one  may  think  very  witty.     But  come,  let  us  drink  to  a 


LA    CORRIVEAU. 


49 


the 


merry  life !  Go  on  with  your  remarkable  reasoning  ;  that 
will  be  pleasanter  for  both  of  us." 

"  The  cloud  has  passed  over,  and  I  resume  my  argu- 
ment," said  Lochiel,  repressing  his  emotion.  **  Don't 
you  see  that  my  rascal  could  not  shut  his  eye  for  an 
instant  without  the  risk  of  his  prey  escaping  him  ?  Do 
you  remember  the  squirrel  that  we  saved  last  year  from 
that  great  snake,  at  the  foot  of  the  old  maple-tree  in 
your  father's  park;  remember  how  the  snake  kept  its 
glowing  eyes  fixed  upon  the  poor  little  creature  in  order 
to  fascinate  it ;  how  the  squirrel  kept  springing  from 
branch  to  branch  with  piteous  cries,  unable  to  remove 
its  gaze  for  an  instant  from  that  of  the  hideous  reptile  ? 
When  we  made  it  look  away  it  was  saved.  Do  you  re- 
member how  joyous  it  was  after  the  death  of  its  enemy? 
Well,  my  friend,  let  our  rogue  shut  his  eye  and  his  prey 
escapes  him." 

"Verily,"  said  Jules,  "you  are  a  mighty  dialectician. 
I  shouldn't  wonder  if  you  would  some  day  eclipse,  if 
you  don't  do  it  already,  such  prattlers  as  Socrates,  Zeno, 
Montaigne,  and  other  philosophers  of  that  ilk.  The 
only  danger  is  lest  your  logic  should  some  day  land  you 
in  the  moon." 

"  You  think  you  can  make  fun  of  me,"  said  Archie. 
"  Very  well,  but  only  let  some  pedant,  with  his  pen  be- 
hind his  ear,  undertake  to  refute  my  thesis  seriously,  and 
a  hundred  scribblers  in  battle  array  will  take  sides  for 
and  against,  and  floods  of  ink  will  flow.  The  world  has 
been  deluged  with  blood  itself  in  defense  of  theories 
about  as  reasonable  as  mine.  Why  such  a  thing  has 
often  been  enough  to  make  a  man  famous." 

"  Meanwhile,"  answered  Jules,  "  your  argument  will 
serve  as  one  of  those  after-pieces  with  which  Sancho 
Panza  used  to  put  Don  Quixote  to  sleep.  As  for  me,  I 
greatly  prefer  the  story  of  our  friend  Jos6." 


50 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


"  You  are  easily  pleased,  sir,"  said  the  latter,  who 
had  been  taking  a  nap  during  the  scientific  discussion. 

*'  Let  us  listen,"  said  Archie  :  "  Conticucre  omnes^  in- 
tentique  or  a  tencbant'* 

"  Conticiierc  ....  you  irrepressible  pedant,"  cried 
D'Haberville. 

"It's  not  one  of  the  priest's  stories,"  put  in  Jos^ 
briskly ;  "  but  it  is  as  true  as  if  he  had  told  it  from  the 
pulpit ;  for  my  late  father  never  lied." 

"We  believe  you,  my  dear  Jos6,"  said  Lochiel. 
"  But  now  please  go  on  with  your  delightful  narrative." 

"  Well,"  said  Jos^,  "  it  happened  that  my  late  father, 
brave  as  he  was,  was  in  such  a  devil  of  a  funk  that 
the  sweat  was  hanging  from  the  end  of  his  nose  like 
a  head  of  oafs.  There  he  was,  the  dear  man,  with  his 
eyes  bigger  than  his  head,  never  daring  to  budge.  Pres- 
ently he  thought  he  heard  behind  him  the  'tic  tac,' 
*  tic  uc,'  which  he  had  already  heard  several  times  on 
the  journey ;  but  he  had  too  much  to  occupy  his  atten- 
tion in  front  of  him  to  pay  much  heed  to  what  might 
pass  behind.  Suddenly,  when  he  was  least  expecting  it, 
he  felt  two  great  bony  hands,  like  the  claws  of  a  bear, 
grip  him  by  the  shoulders.  He  turned  around  horrified, 
and  found  himself  face  to  face  with  La  Corriveau,  who 
was  climbing  on  his  back.  She  had  thrust  her  hands 
through  the  bars  of  her  cage  and  succeeded  in  clutching 
him ;  but  the  cage  was  heavy,  and  at  every  lea/>  she  fell 
back  again  to  the  ground  with  a  hoarse  cry,  without 
losing  her  hold,  however,  on  the  shoulders  of  my  late 
father,  who  bent  under  the  burden.  If  he  had  not  held 
tight  to  the  fence  with  both  hands,  he  would  have  been 
crushed  under  the  weight.  My  poor  late  father  was  so 
overwhelmed  with  horror  that  one  might  have  heard  the 
sweat  that  rolled  off  his  forehead  dropping  down  on 
the  fence  like  grains  of  duck-shot. 


I 


LA    CORRIVEAU. 


51 


«  < 


/«- 


git, 
Dear, 

ied, 

ho 

nds 

ing 

fell 

out 

ate 

eld 

en 

so 

he 

on 


My  dear  Francis,'  said  La  Corriveau,  *do  me  the 
pleasure  of  taking  me  to  dance  with  my  friends  of  Isle 
d'  Origan  ? ' 

" '  Oh,  you  devil's  wench  ! '  cried  my  late  father. 
That  was  the  only  oath  the  good  man  ever  used,  and 
that  only  when  very  much  tried." 

'*  The  deuce  !  "  exclaimed  Jules,  "  it  seems  to  me  that 
the  occasion  was  a  very  suitable  one.  For  my  own  part, 
I  should  have  been  swearing  like  a  heathen." 

**And  I,"  said  Archie,  "like  an  Englishman." 

"Isn't  that  much  the  same  thing,"  answered  D'Hab- 
erville. 

"  You  are  wrong,  my  dear  Jules.  I  must  acknowl- 
edge that  the  heathen  acquit  themselves  very  well ;  but 
the  English  ?  Oh,  my  !  Le  Roux  who,  soon  as  he  got 
out  of  college,  made  a  point  of  reading  all  the  bad  books 
he  could  get  hold  of,  told  us,  if  you  remember,  that  that 
blackguard  of  a  Voltaire,  as  my  uncle  the  Jesuit  used 
.0  call  him,  had  declared  in  a  book  0 ;  his,  treating  of 
what  happened  in  France  in  the  reigr.  of  Charles  VII, 
when  that  prince  was  hunting  the  isl.'inders  out  of  his 
kingdom — Le  Roux  told  us  that  Voltaire  had  put  it  on 
record  that  *  every  Englishman  swears.'  Well,  my  boy, 
those  events  took  place  about  the  year  1445 — let  us  say, 
three  hundred  years  ago.  Judge,  then,  what  dreadful 
oaths  that  ill-tempered  nation  must  have  invented  in  the 
course  of  three  centuries  !  " 

"  I  surrender,"  said  Jules.  "  But  go  on,  my  dear 
Jos6." 

"  '  Devil's  wench  !  *  exclaimed  my  late  father,  *  is  that 
your  gratitude  for  my  de  proftmdis  and  all  my  other 
prayers?  You'd  drag  me  into  the  orgie,  would  you  ?  I 
was  thinking  you  must  have  been  in  for  at  least  three  or 
four  thousand  years  of  purgatory  for  your  pranks ;  and 
you  had  only  killed  two  hjugbarvda— ^^yhich  was  a  mere 


7  /^ 


"'^  iJiofvAxlK 


l^ 


THE   CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


nothing.  So  having  always  a  tender  heart  for  every- 
thing, I  felt  sorry  for  you,  and  said  to  myself  we  must 
give  you  a  helping  hand.  And  this  is  the  way  you  thank 
me,  that  you  want  to  straddle  my  shoulders  and  ride  me 
to  hell  like  a  heretic  !  * 

*"  My  dear  Francis,'  said  La  Corriveau,  *take  me 
over  to  dance  with  my  dear  friends  ; '  and  she  knocked 
her  head  against  that  of  my  late  father  till  Lc  skull  rat- 
tled like  a  dry  bladder  filled  with  pebbles. 

"  '  You  may  be  sure,'  said  my  late  father,  *  You  hel- 
lish wench  of  Judas  Iscariot,  I'm  not  going  to  be  your 
jackass  to  carry  you  over  to  dance  with  those  pretty 
darlings ! ' 

"  *  My  dear  Francis,*  answered  the  witch,  *  I  can  not 
cross  the  St.  Lawrence,  which  is  a  consecrated  stream, 
except  with  the  help  of  a  Christian.' 

*' '  Get  over  as  best  you  can,  you  devilish  gallows 
bird,*  said  my  late  father.  *  Get  over  as  best  you  can  ; 
every  one  to  his  own  business.  Oh,  yes,  a  likely  thing 
that  I'll  carry  you  over  to  dance  with  your  dear  friends ; 
but  that  will  be  a  devil  of  a  journey  you  have  come,  the 
Lord  knows  how,  dragging  that  fine  cage  of  yours,  which 
irju'jt  have  torn  up  all  the  stones  on  the  king's  high- 
way !  A  nice  row  there'll  be  when  the  inspector  passes 
this  wnv  one  of  these  days  and  finds  the  road  in  such  a 
condition  !  And  then,  who  but  the  poor  habitant  will 
have  to  suffer  for  your  frolics,  getting  fined  for  not  hav- 
ing kept  the  road  properly  I ' 

"  The  drum-major  suddenly  stopped  boating  on  his 
great  sauce-pan.  All  the  goblins  halted  and  gave  three 
yells,  three  frightful  whoops,  like  the  Indians  give  when 
they  have  danced  that  war-dance  with  which  they  always 
begin  their  bloody  expeditions.  The  island  was  shaken 
to  its  foundation,  the  wolves,  the  bears,  all  the  other 
wild  beasts,  and  the  demons  of  the  northern  mountains 


.i 


LA    CORRIVEAU. 


53 


can  ; 


his 

three 

^hen 

rays 

iken 

Ither 

tins 


took  up  the  cry,  and  the  echoes  repeated  it  till  it  was 
lost  in  the  forests  of  the  far-off  Saguenay. 

**  My  poor,  late  father  thought  that  the  end  of  the 
world  had  come,  and  the  Day  of  Judgment. 

"  The  tall  devil  with  the  sauce-pan  struck  three 
blows;  and  a  silence  most  profound  succeeded  the 
hellish  hubbub.  He  stretched  out  his  arm  toward  my 
late  father,  and  cried  with  a  voice  of  thunder  :  *  Will  you 
make  haste,  you  lazy  dog  ?  will  you  make  haste,  you  cur 
of  a  Christian,  anr*  ""erry  our  friend  across  ?  We  have 
only  fourteen  thfyusand  four  hundred  times  more  to 
prance  around  the  island  before  cock-crow.  Are  you 
going  to  make  her  lose  the  best  of  the  fun  ? ' 

"  *  Go  to  the  devil,  where  you  all  belong,'  answered 
my  late  father,  losing  all  patience. 

"  *  Come,  my  dear  Francis,'  said  La  Corriveau,  *be  a 
little  more  obliging.  You  are  acting  like  a  child  about 
a  mere  trifle.  Moreover,  see  how  the  time  is  flying. 
Come,  now,  one  little  effort ! ' 

*'  *  No,  no,  my  wench  of  Satan,*  said  my  late  father. 
*  Would  to  Heaven  you  still  had  on  the  fine  collar  which 
the  hangman  put  around  your  neck  two  years  ago.  You 
wouldn't  have  so  clear  a  wind-pipe.' 

"  During  this  dialogue  the  goblins  on  the  island  re- 
sumed their  chorus  : 

'* '  Here  we  go  all  round, 
Hands  all  round, 
Here  we  go  all  round.' 

"*My  dear  Francis,*  said  the  witch,  *if  your  body 
and  bones  won't  carry  me  over,  I'm  going  to  strangle 
you.  I  will  straddle  your  soul  and  ride  over  to  the  fes- 
tival.' With  these  words,  she  seized  him  by  the  throat 
and  strangled  him." 

"  What,"  exclaimed  the  young  men,  "  she  strangled 
your  poor,  late  father,  now  dead  "i  " 


54 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


"  When  I  said  strangled,  it  was  very  little  better 
than  that,"  answered  Jos^,"  for  the  dear  man  lost  his 
consciousness. 

"  When  he  came  to  himself  he  heard  a  little  bird, 
which  cried  Qu^-tu  ?  (Who  art  thou  ?) 

"  *  Oh,  ho  ! '  said  my  late  father,  *  it's  plain  I'm  not 
in  hell,  since  I  hear  the  dear  Lord's  birds  !  *  He  opened 
first  one  eye,  then  the  other,  and  saw  that  it  was  broad 
daylight.  The  sun  was  shining  right  in  his  face ;  the 
little  bird,  perched  on  a  neighboring  branch,  kept  cry- 
ing qud-tu  ?  * 

"  *  My  dear  child,*  said  my  late  father,  *  it  is  not  very 

easy  to  answer  your  question,  for  I'm  not  very  certain 

this  morning  just  who  I  am.     Only  yesterday  I  believed 

myself  to  be  a  brave,  honest,  and  God-fearing  man ;  but 

I  have  had  such  an  experience  this  night  that  I  can 

hardly  be  sure  that  it  is  I,  Francis  Dub(5,  here  present  in 

body  and  soul.     Then  the  dear  man  began  to  sing : 

**  *  Here  we  go  all  round, 
Hands  all  round, 
Here  we  go  all  round.' 

'*  In  fact,  he  was  half  bewitched.  At  last,  however, 
he  perceived  that  he  was  lying  full  length  in  a  ditch 
where,  happily,  there  was  more  mud  than  water;  but  for 
that  my  poor,  late  father,  who  now  sleeps  with  the  saints, 
surrounded  by  all  his  relations  and  friends,  and  fortified 
by  all  the  holy  sacraments,  would  have  died  without  ab- 
solution, like  a  monkey  in  his  old  tree,  begging  your 
pardon  for  the  comparison,  young  gentlemen.  When 
he  had  got  his  face  clear  from  the  mud  of  the  ditch,  in 
which  he  was  stuck  fast  as  in  a  vise,  the  first  thing  he 
saw  was  his  flask  on  the  bank  above  him.  At  this  he 
plucked  up  his  courage  and  stretched  out  his  hand  to 
take  a  drink.  But  no  such  luck !  The  flask  was  empty ! 
The  witch  had  drained  every  drop." 


LA    CORRIVEAU. 


55 


"  My  dear  Jos^,"  said  Lochiel,  "  I  think  I  am  about 
as  brave  as  the  next  one.  Nevertheless,  if  such  an  ad- 
venture had  happened  to  me,  never  again  would  I  have 
traveled  alone  at  night." 

"  Nor  I  either,"  said  D'Haberville. 

"  To  tell  you  the  truth,  gentlemen,"  said  Jose,  "  since 
you  are  so  discriminating,  I  will  confess  that  my  late 
father,  who  before  this  adventure  would  not  have  turned 
a  hair  in  the  graveyard  at  midnight,  was  never  afterward 
so  bold  ;  he  dared  not  even  go  alone  after  sunset  to  do 
his  chores  in  the  stable." 

"  And  very  sensible  he  was  ;  but  finish  your  story," 
said  Jules. 

"  It  is  finished,"  said  Jos^.  "  My  late  father  har- 
nessed his  horse,  who  appeared,  poor  brute,  to  have  no- 
ticed nothing  unusual,  and  made  his  way  home  fast  as 
possible.  It  was  not  till  a  fortnight  later  that  he  told  us 
his  adventure." 

"What  do  you  say  to  all  that,  my  self-satisfied  skep- 
tic who  would  refuse  to  Canada  the  luxury  of  witches 
and  wizards  ? "  inquired  d'Haberville. 

"  I  say,"  answered  Archie,  "  that  our  Highland 
witches  are  mere  infants  compared  with  those  of  New 
P'rance,  and,  what's  more,  if  ever  I  get  back  to  my  Scot- 
tish hills,  I'm  going  to  imprison  all  our  hobgoblins  in 
bottles,  as  Le  Sage  did  with  his  wooden-legged  devil, 
Asmodeus." 

"  Hum-m-m  !  "  said  Jos6.  **  It  would  serve  them  just 
right,  accursed  blackguards ;  but  where  would  you  get 
bottles  big  enough  ?     There'd  be  the  difficulty." 


CHAPTER  V. 


THE   BREAKING    UP   OF   THE   ICE. 

On  entendit  du  cote  de  la  mer  un  bruit  epouvantable,  comme  si  des  tor- 
rents d'eau,  meles  d  des  tonnerres,  eussent  roule  du  haul  des  montagnes ; 
tout  le  monde  s'ecria :  voild  I'ouragan. 

Bernardin  de  Saint-Pierre. 

Though  aged,  he  was  so  iron  of  limb 
Few  of  your  youths  could  cope  with  him. 

Byron. 

Que  j'aille  d  son  secours,  s'ecria-t-il,  cu  que  je  meure. 

Bernardin  de  Saint-Pierre. 

Les  vents  et  les  vagues  sont  toujours  du  c6te  du  plus  habile  nageur. 

Gibbon. 

The  travelers  merrily  continued  their  journey.  The 
day  drew  to  a  close,  and  they  kept  on  for  a  time  by  star- 
light. At  length  the  moon  rose  and  shone  far  over  the 
still  bosom  of  the  Saint  Lawrence.  At  the  sight  of  her, 
Jules  broke  out  into  rhapsodies,  and  cried  : 

"  I  feel  myself  inspired,  not  by  the  waters  of  Hippo- 
crene,  which  I  have  never  tasted  and  which,  I  trust,  I 
never  shall  taste,  but  by  the  kindly  juice  of  Bacchus, 
dearer  than  all  the  fountains  in  the  world,  not  even  ex- 
cepting the  limpid  wave  of  Parnassus.  Hail  to  thee,  fair 
moon  !  Hail  to  thee,  thou  silvern  lamp,  that  lightest 
the  steps  of  two  men  free  as  the  children  of  our  mighty 
forests,  two  men  but  now  escaped  from  the  shackles  of 
college !  How  many  times,  O  moon,  as  thy  pale  rays 
pierced  to  my  lonely  couch,  how  many  times  have  I 


^t 


■M: 


THE  BREAKING   UP  OF   THE  ICE. 


57 


ippo- 
ust,  I 
chus, 
in  ex- 
,  fair 
htest 
ighty 
es  of 
rays 
ve  I 


longed  to  break  my  bonds  and  mingle  with  the  joyous 
throngs  at  balls  and  routs,  Avhile  a  harsh  and  inexorable 
decree  condemned  me  to  a  sleep  which  1  abhorred  ! 
Ah,  how  many  times,  O  moon,  have  I  sighed  to  traverse, 
mounted  upon  thy  crescent  at  the  risk  of  breaking  my 
neck,  the  regions  thou  wast  illuminating  in  thy  stately 
course,  even  though  it  should  take  me  to  another  hemi- 
sphere !     Ah,  how  many  times — " 

"  Ah,  how  many  times  in  thy  life  hast  thou  talked 
nonsense  !  "  exclaimed  Archie.  "  But,  since  frenzy  is  in- 
fectious, listen  now  to  a  true  poet,  and  abase  thyself, 
proud  spirit.  O  moon,  thou  of  the  threefold  essence, 
thou  whom  the  poets  of  old  invoked  as  Artemis  the 
Huntress,  how  sweet  it  must  be  to  thee  to  forsake  the 
dark  realms  of  Pluto,  and  not  less  the  forests  wherein, 
with  thy  baying  pack,  thou  raisest  a  din  enough  to  deafen 
all  the  demons  of  Canada !  How  sweet  it  must  be  to 
thee,  O  moon,  to  journey  now  in  tranquil  dominance,  in 
stupendous  silence,  the  ethereal  spaces  of  heaven  !  Re- 
pent of  thy  work,  I  beseech  thee  !  Restore  the  light  of 
reason  to  this  poor  afflicted  one,  my  dearest  friend,  who — " 

"  O  Phoebe,  patron  of  fools,"  interrupted  Jules, 
"  not  for  ray  friend  have  I  any  prayer  to  make  thee. 
Thou  art  all  guiltless  of  his  infirmity,  for  the  mischief 
was  done — " 

"  I  say,  gentlemen,"  exclaimed  Jose,  "  when  you  are 
done  youi  conversation  with  my  lady  moon — I  don't 
know  how  you  find  so  much  to  say  to  her — would  it 
please  you  to  notice  what  a  noise  they  are  making  in 
St.  Thomas  yonder  ?  " 

All  listened  intently.  It  was  the  church  bell  pealing 
wildly. 

"  It  is  the  Angelus,"  exclaimed  Jules  d'Haberville. 

**  Oh,  yes,"  exclaimed  Jos^,  "  the  Angelus  at  eight 
o'clock  in  the  evening." 


58 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD, 


'■'■^ 


M 


Then  it's  a  fire,"  said  Archie. 

*'  But  we  don't  see  any  flames,"  answered  Jos6. 
"  Whatever  it  is  let's  make  haste.  There  is  something 
unusual  going  on  yonder." 

Driving  as  fast  as  they  could,  half  an  hour  later 
they  entered  the  village  of  St.  Thomas.  All  was  silence. 
The  village  appeared  deserted.  Only  the  dogs,  shut  up 
in  some  of  the  houses,  were  barking  madly.  But  for  the 
noise  of  the  curs  they  might  have  thought  themselves 
transported  into  that  city  which  we  read  of  in  the  Ara- 
bian Nights  whose  inhabitants  had  all  been  turned  into 
marble. 

Our  travelers  were  on  the  point  of  entering  the 
church,  the  bell  of  which  was  still  ringing,  when  they 
noticed  a  light  and  heard  shouts  from  the  bank  by  the 
rapid's  near  the  manor  house.  Thither  they  made  their 
way  at  full  speed. 

It  would  take  the  pen  of  a  Cooper  or  a  Chateau- 
briand to  paint  the  scene  that  met  their  eyes  on  the 
bank  of  South  River. 

Captain  Marcheterre,  an  old  sailor  of  powerful  frame, 
was  returning  to  the  village  toward  dusk  at  a  brisk  pace, 
wher  he  heard  out  on  the  river  a  noise  like  some  heavy 
body  falling  into  the  water,  and  immediately  afterward 
the  groans  and  cries  of  some  one  appealing  for  help.  It 
was  a  rash  habitant  named  Dumais,  who,  thinking  the  ice 
yet  sufficiently  firm,  had  ventured  upon  it  with  his  team, 
about  a  dozen  rods  southwest  of  the  town.  The  ice 
had  split  up  so  suddenly  that  his  team  vanished  in  the 
current.  The  unhappy  Dumais,  a  man  of  great  activity, 
had  just  succeeded  in  springing  from  the  sled  to  a 
stronger  piece  of  ice,  but  the  violence  of  the  effort  had 
proved  disastrous ;  catching  his  foot  in  a  crevice,  he 
had  snapped  his  leg  at  the  ankle  like  a  bit  of  glass. 

Marcheterre,  who  knew  the  dangerous  condition  of 


THE  BREAKING   UP  OF  THE  ICE. 


59 


e,  he 


the  ice,  which  was  split  in  many  places,  shouted  to  him 
not  to  stir,  and  that  he  was  going  to  bring  him  help. 
He  ran  at  once  to  the  sexton,  telling  him  to  ring  the 
alarm  while  he  was  routing  ort  the  nearest  neighbors. 
In  a  moment,  all  was  bustle  and  confusion.  Men  ran 
hither  and  thither  without  accomplishing  anything. 
Women  and  children  began  to  cry.  Dogs  began  to 
howl,  sounding  every  note  of  the  canine  gamut ;  so  that 
the  captain,  whose  experience  pointed  him  out  as  the 
one  to  direct  the  rescue,  had  great  difficulty  in  making 
himself  heard. 

However,  under  the  directions  of  Marcheterre,  some 
ran  for  ropes  and  boards  while  others  stripped  the  fences 
and  wood-piles  of  their  cedar  and  birch  bark  to  make 
torches.  The  scene  grew  more  and  more  animated,  and 
by  the  ligit  of  fifty  torches  shedding  abroad  their  fitful 
glare  the  crowd  spread  along  the  river  bank  to  the  spot 
pointed  out  by  the  old  sailor. 

Dumais  waited  patiently  enough  for  the  coming  of 
help.  As  soon  as  he  could  make  himself  heard  he  im- 
plored them  to  hurry,  for  he  was  beginning  to  hear  vn- 
der  the  ice  low  grumbling  sounds  which  seemed  to  cone 
from  far  off  toward  the  river's  mouth. 

"  There's  not  a  moment  to  lose,  my  friends,**  ex- 
claimed the  old  captain,  "  for  that  is  a  sign  the  ice  is  go- 
ing to  break  up." 

Men  less  experienced  than  he  wished  immediately  to 
thrust  out  upon  the  ice  their  planks  and  boards  without 
waiting  to  tie  them  together ;  but  this  he  forbade,  for  the 
ice  was  already  full  of  cracks,  and  moreover  the  ice  cake 
which  supported  Dumais  was  isolated,  having  on  the  one 
side  the  shattered  surface  where  the  horse  had  been  en- 
gulfed, and  on  the  other  a  large  air-hole  which  cut  off 
all  approach.  Marcheterre,  who  knev/  that  the  breaking 
up  was  not  only  inevitable,  but  to  be  expected  at  any 


6o 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


% 


moment,  was  unwilling  to  risk  the  life  of  so  many  people 
without  taking  every  precaution  that  his  experience  could 
dictate. 

Some  thereupon  with  hatchets  began  to  notch  the 
planks  and  boards  ;  some  tied  them  together  end  to  end ; 
some,  with  the  captain  at  their  head,  dragged  them  out 
on  the  ice,  while  others  were  pushing  from  the  bank. 
This  improvised  bridge  was  not  more  than  fifty  feet  from 
the  bank  when  the  old  sailor  cried :  "  Now,  boys,  let 
some  strong  active  fellows  follow  me  at  a  distance  of  ten 
feet  from  one  another,  and  let  the  rest  keep  pushing  as 
before ! " 

Marcheterre  was  closely  followed  by  his  son,  a  young 
man  in  the  prime  of  life,  who,  knowing  his  father's  bold- 
ness, kept  within  reach  in  order  to  help  him  in  case  of 
need,  for  lugubrious  mutterings,  the  ominous  forerun- 
ners of  a  mighty  cataclysm,  were  making  themselves 
heard  beneath  the  ice.  But  every  one  was  at  his  post 
and  every  one  doing  his  utmost;  those  who  broke 
through,  dragged  themselves  out  by  means  of  the  float- 
ing bridge,  and,  once  more  on  the  solid  ice,  resumed  their 
efforts  with  renewed  zeal.  Two  or  three  minutes  more 
and  Dumais  would  be  saved. 

The  two  Marcheterres,  the  father  ahead,  were  within 
about  a  hundred  feet  of  the  wretched  victim  of  his  own 
imprudence,  when  a  subterranean  thunder,  such  as  pre- 
cedes a  strong  shock  of  earthquake,  seemed  to  run  the 
whole  length  of  South  River.  This  subterranean  sound 
was  at  once  followed  by  an  explosion  like  the  discharge 
of  a  great  piece  of  artillery.  Then  rose  a  terrible  cry. 
"  The  ice  is  going  !  the  ice  is  going !  save  yourselves  !  " 
screamed  the  crowd  on  shore. 

Indeed  the  ice  cakes  were  shivering  on  all  sides  under 
the  pressure  of  the  flood,  which  was  already  invading  the 
banks.     Then  followed   dreadful  confusion.      The  ice 


i.M 


THE  BREAKING   UP  OF  THE  ICE. 


6l 


cakes  turned  completely  over,  climbed  upon  each  other 
with  a  frightful  grinding  noise,  piled  themselves  to  a 
great  height,  then  sank  suddenly  and  disappeared  be- 
neath the  waves.  The  planks  and  boards  were  tossed 
about  like  cockle-shells  in  an  ocean  gale.  The  ropes 
and  chains  threatened  every  moment  to  give  away. 

The  spectators,  horror-stricken  at  the  sight  of  their 
kinsfolk  exposed  to  almost  certain  destruction,  kept  cry- 
ing :  "  Save  yourselves !  save  yourselves  !  "  It  would 
g  have  been  indeed  tempting  Providence  to  continue  any 
longer  the  rash  and  unequal  struggle  with  the  flood. 

Marcheterre,  however,  who  seemed  rather  inspired 
than  daunted  by  the  appalling  spectacle,  ceased  not  to 
shout :  "  Forward  boys  !  forward,  for  God's  sake  !  ** 

This  old  sea-lion,  ever  cool  and  unmoved  when  on 
the  deck  of  his  reeling  ship  and  directing  a  manoeuvre  on 
whose  success  the  lives  of  all  depended,  was  just  as  calm 
in  the  face  of  a  peril  which  froze  the  boldest  hearts. 
Turning  lound,  he  perceived  that,  with  the  exception  of 
his  son  and  Joncas,  one  of  his  sailors,  the  rest  had  all 
sought  safety  in  a  headlong  flight.  "  Oh,  you  cowards, 
you  cowards !  "  he  cried. 

He  was  interrupted  by  his  son,  who,  seeing  him  rush- 
ing to  certain  death,  seized  him  and  threw  him  down  on 
a  plank,  where  he  held  him  some  moments  in  spite  of 
the  old  man's  mighty  struggles.  Then  followed  a  terri- 
ble conflict  between  father  and  son.  It  was  fili?^  love 
against  that  sublime  self-abnegation,  the  love  of  hu- 
manity. 

The  old  man,  by  a  tremendous  effort,  succeeded  in 
throwing  himself  off  the  plank,  and  he  and  his  son  rolled 
on  to  the  ice,  where  the  struggle  was  continued  fiercely. 
At  this  crisis,  Joncas,  leaping  from  plank  to  plank,  from 
board  to  board,  came  to  the  young  man's  assistance. 

The  spectators,  who  from  the  shore  lost  nothing  of 


62 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


the  heart-rending  scene,  in  spite  of  the  water  already- 
pursuing  them,  made  haste  to  draw  in  the  ropes,  and 
the  united  efforts  of  a  hundred  brawny  arms  were  suc- 
cessful in  rescuing  the  three  heroes.  Scarcely,  indeed, 
had  they  reached  a  place  of  safety,  when  the  great  sheet 
of  ice,  which  had  hitherto  remained  stationary  in  spite  of 
the  furious  attacks  of  the  enemy  assailing  it  on  all  sides, 
groaning,  and  with  a  slow  majesty  of  movement,  began 
its  descent  toward  the  falls. 

All  eyes  were  straightway  fixed  upon  Dumais.  He 
was  a  brave  man.  Many  a  time  had  he  proved  his  cour- 
age upon  the  enemies  of  his  country.  He  had  even  faced 
the  most  hideous  of  deaths,  when,  bound  to  a  post,  he 
was  on  the  point  of  being  burned  alive  by  the  Iroquois, 
which  he  would  have  been  but  for  the  timely  aid  of  his 
friends  the  Melicites.  Now  he  was  sitting  on  his  pre- 
carious refuge  calm  and  unmoved  as  a  statue  of  death. 
He  made  some  signs  toward  the  shore,  which  the  specta- 
tors understood  as  a  last  farewell  to  his  friends.  Then, 
folding  his  arms,  or  occasionally  lifting  them  toward 
heaven,  he  appeared  to  forget  all  earthly  ties  and  to 
prepare  himself  for  passing  the  dread  limits  which  divide 
man  from  the  eternal. 

Once  safely  ashore,  the  captain  displayed  no  more 
of  his  anger.  Regaining  his  customary  coolness  he  gave 
his  orders  calmly  and  precisely. 

"  Let  us  take  our  floating  bridge,"  said  he,  **  and  fol- 
low yonder  sheet  of  ice  down  river." 

'*  What  is  the  use  ? "  cried  some  who  appeared  to 
have  had  experience.  "  The  poor  fellow  is  beyond  the 
reach  of  help." 

"  There's  one  chance  yet,  one  little  chance  of  saving 
him,"  said  the  old  sailor,  giving  ear  to  certain  sounds 
which  he  heard  far  off  to  the  southward,  "and  we  must 
be  ready  for  it.     The  ice  is  on  the  point  of  breaking  up 


i 


% 


1 

i 


THE  BREAKING  UP  OF  THE  ICE. 


63 


in  the  St.  Nicholas,  which,  as  you  know,  is  very  rapid. 
The  violence  of  the  flood  at  that  point  is  likely  to  crowd 
the  ice  of  South  River  over  against  our  shore  ;  and  what's 
more,  we  shall  have  no  reason  to  reproach  ourselves." 

It  fell  out  as  Captain  Marcheterre  predicted.  In  a 
moment  or  two  there  was  a  mighty  report  like  a  peal  of 
thunder  ;  and  the  St.  Nicholas,  bursting  madly  from  its 
fetters,  hurled  itself  upon  the  flank  of  the  vast  proces- 
sion of  ice  floes  which,  having  hitherto  encountered  no 
obstacle,  were  pursuing  their  triumphant  way  to  the  St. 
Lawrence.  It  seemed  for  a  moment  that  the  fierce  and 
swift  attack,  the  sudden  thrust,  was  going  to  pile  the 
greater  part  of  the  ice  cakes  upon  the  other  shore  as  the 
captain  hoped.  The  change  it  wrought  was  but  moment- 
ary, for  the  channel  getting  choked  there  was  an  abrupt 
halt,  and  the  ice  cakes,  piling  one  upon  another,  took  the 
shape  of  a  lofty  rampart.  Checked  by  this  obstacle,  the 
waves  spread  far  beyond  both  shores  and  flooded  the 
greater  part  of  the  village.  This  sudden  deluge,  driving 
the  spectators  from  the  banks,  destroyed  the  last  hope 
of  poor  Dumais. 

The  struggle  was  long  and  obstinate  between  the 
angry  element  and  the  obstacle  which  barred  its  course  ; 
but  at  length  the  great  lake,  ceaselessly  fed  by  the  main 
river  and  the  tributaries,  rose  to  the  top  of  the  dam, 
whose  foundations  it  was  at  the  same  time  eating  away 
from  beneath.  The  barrier,  unable  to  resist  the  stupen- 
dous weight,  burst  with  a  roar  that  shook  both  banks. 
As  South  River  widens  suddenly  below  its  junction  with 
the  St.  Nicholas,  the  unchained  mass  darted  down 
stream  like  an  arrow,  and  its  course  was  unimpeded  to 
the  cataract. 

Dumais  had  resigned  himself  to  his  fate.  Calm  amid 
the  tumult,  his  hands  crossed  upon  his  breast,  his  eyes 
lifted  heavenward,  he  seemed  absorbed  in  contemplation. 


w 


THE   CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


The  spectators  crowded  toward  the  cataract  to  see 
the  end  of  the  tragedy.  Numbers,  roused  by  the  alarm 
bell,  had  gathered  on  the  other  shore  and  had  supplied 
themselves  with  torches  by  stripping  off  the  bark  from 
the  cedar  rails.  The  dreadful  scene  was  lighted  as  if 
for  a  festival. 

One  could  see  in  the  distance  the  long,  imposing 
structure  of  the  manor  house,  to  the  southwest  of  the 
river.  It  was  built  on  the  top  of  a  knoll  overlooking  the 
basin  and  ran  parallel  to  the  fails.  About  a  hundred 
feet  from  the  manor  house  rose  the  roof  of  a  saw  mill, 
the  sluice  of  which  was  connected  with  the  fall  itself. 
Two  hundred  feet  from  the  mill,  upon  the  crest  of  the  fall, 
were  sharply  outlined  the  remnants  of  a  little  island  upon 
which,  for  ages,  the  spring  floods  had  spent  their  fury. 
Shorn  of  its  former  size — for  it  had  once  been  a  penin- 
sula— the  islet  was  not  now  more  than  twelve  feet  square. 

Of  all  the  trees  that  had  once  adorned  the  spot  there 
remained  but  a  single  cedar.  This  veteran,  which  for  so 
many  years  had  braved  the  fury  of  the  equinoxes  and 
the  ice  floods  of  South  River,  had  half  given  way  before 
the  relentless  assaults.  Its  crown  hung  sadly  over  the 
abyss  in  which  it  threatened  soon  to  disappviar.  Several 
hundred  feet  from  this  islet  stood  a  grist  mill,  to  the 
northwest  of  the  fall. 

Owing  to  a  curve  in  the  shore,  the  tremendous  mass 
of  ice  which,  drawn  by  the  fall,  was  darting  down  the 
river  with  frightful  speed,  crowded  all  into  the  channel 
between  the  islet  and  the  flour  mill,  the  sluice  of  which 
was  demolished  in  a  moment.  Then  the  ice  cakes,  pil- 
ing themselves  against  the  timbers  to  the  height  of  the 
roof,  ended  by  crushing  the  mill  itself  as  if  it  had  been 
a  house  of  cards.  The  ice  having  taken  this  direction, 
the  channel  between  the  saw  mill  and  the  island  was 
comparatively  free. 


,% 


■fc 


M 


THE  BREAKING  UP  OF  THE  ICE. 


65 


The  crowd  kept  running  along  the  bank  and  watch- 
ing with  horrified  interest  the  man  whom  nothing  short 
of  a  miracle  could  save  from  a  hideous  death.  Indeed 
up  to  within  about  thirty  feet  of  the  island,  Dumais  was 
being  carried  farther  and  farther  from  his  only  hope  of 
rescue,  when  an  enormous  ice  cake,  dashing  down  with 
furious  speed,  struck  one  corner  of  the  piece  on  which 
he  was  sitting,  and  diverted  it  violently  from  its  course. 
It  wheeled  upon  the  little  island  and  came  in  contact 
with  the  ancient  cedar,  the  only  barrier  between  Dumais 
and  the  abyss.  The  tree  groaned  under  the  shock  ;  its 
top  broke  off  and  vanished  in  the  foam.  Relieved  of 
this  weight,  the  old  tree  recovered  itself  suddenly,  and 
made  ready  for  one  more  struggle  against  the  enemies  it 
had  so  often  conquered. 

Dumais,  thrown  forward  by  the  unexpected  shock, 
clasped  the  trunk  of  the  ced?r  convulsively  with  both 
arms:  Supporting  himself  on  one  leg,  he  clung  there 
desperately  while  the  ice  swayed  ai.d  cracked  and  threat- 
ened every  instant  to  drag  him  from  his  frail  support. 

Nothing  was  lacking  to  the  lurici  and  dreadful  scene. 
The  hurrying  torches  on  the  shores  threw  a  grim  light 
on  the  ghastly  features  and  staring  eyes  of  the  poor 
wretch  thus  hanging  by  a  hair  above  the  gulf  of  death. 
Unquestionably  Dumais  was  brave,  but  in  this  position 
of  unspeakable  horror  he  lost  his  self-control. 

Marcheterre  and  his  friends,  however,  still  cherished 
a  hope  of  saving  him. 

Descrying  on  the  shore  near  the  saw  mill  two  great 
pieces  of  squared  timber,  they  dragged  these  to  a  rock 
which  projected  into  the  river  about  two  hundred  feet 
above  the  fall ;  to  each  of  these  timbers  they  attached  a 
cable  and  launched  them  forth,  in  hopes  that  the  cur- 
rent would  carry  them  upon  the  island.  Vain  attempt ! 
They  could  not  thrust  them  far  enough  out  into  the 
5 


66 


TfiE   CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


Stream,  and  the  timbers,  anchored,  as  it  were,  by  the 
weight  of  the  chains,  kept  swaying  mid  way  between 
shore  and  island. 

It  seemed  impossible  to  add  to  the  awful  sublimity 
of  the  picture,  but  on  the  shore  was  being  enacted  a 
most  impressive  scene.  It  was  religion  preparing  the 
Christian  to  appear  before  the  dread  tribunal :  it  was 
religion  supporting  him  to  endure  the  final  agony. 

The  parish  priest,  who  hod  been  at  a  sick  bed,  was 
now  upon  the  scene.  He  was  a  tall  old  man  of  ninety. 
The  burden  of  years  had  not  availed  to  bend  this  mod* 
ern  Nestor,  who  had  baptized  and  married  all  his  pa- 
rishioners, and  had  buried  three  generations  of  them. 
His  long  hair,  white  as  snow  and  tossed  by  the  night 
wind,  made  him  look  like  a  prophet  of  old.  He  stood 
erect  on  the  shorC;  his  hands  stretcl  ed  out  to  the  misera- 
ble Dumais.  He  loved  him  ;  he  had  christened  him  ;  he 
had  prepared  him  for  that  significant  rite  of  the  Catholic 
Church  which  seems  suddenly  io  touch  a  child's  nature 
with  something  of  the  angelic.  He  loved  him  also 
as  the  husband  of  an  orphan  girl  whom  the  old  priest 
had  brought  up.  He  loved  him  for  the  sake  of  his  two 
little  ones,  who  were  the  joy  of  his  old  age.  Standing 
there  on  the  shore,  like  the  Angel  of  Pity,  he  not  only 
administered  the  consolations  of  his  sacred  office,  but 
spoke  to  him  tender  words  of  love.  He  promised  him 
that  the  seigneur  would  never  let  his  family  come  to 
want.  Finally,  seeing  the  tree  yield  more  and  more  be- 
fore every  shock,  he  cried  in  a  loud  voice,  broken  with 
sobs:  '  My  son,  make  me  the  *  Act  of  Contrition  *  and  I 
will  give  you  absolution."  A  moment  later,  in  a  voice 
that  rang  clear  above  the  roaring  of  the  flood  and  of  the 
cataract,  the  old  priest  pronounced  these  words  :  "  My 
son,  in  the  name  of  God  the  Father,  in  the  name  of 
Jesus  Christ,  his  Son,  by  whose  authority  I  speak,  in  the 


at 


# 


"^ 

\ 


■m 


Im 


,  W^^" 


THE  BREAKING  UP  OF  THE  ICE. 


67 


by  the 
between 

iblimity 

acted  a 

ing  the 

it  was 

r 
i 

ed,  was 
ninety. 
is  mod- 
his  pa- 

them. 
e  night 
2  stood 
tnisera- 
im  ;  he 
atholic 
nature 
n   also 

priest 
lis  two 
mding 
>t  only 

,  but 
d  him 
me  to 
re  be- 
1  with 
and  I 
voice 
5f  the 

"  My 
ne  of 
n  the 


name  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  your  sins  are  forgiven  you. 
Amen."    And  all  the  people  sobbed,  "Amen." 

Then  Nature  reasserted  herself,  and  the  old  man's 
voice  was  choked  with  tears.  Again  he  regained  his 
self-control,  and  cried  :  "  Kneel,  brethren,  while  I  say 
the  prayers  for  the  dying." 

Once  more  the  old  priest's  voice  soared  above  the 
tumult,  as  he  cried  : 

"  Blessed  soul,  we  dismiss  you  from  the  body  in  the 
name  of  God  the  Father  Almighty  who  created  you,  in 
the  name  of  Jesus  Christ  wiio  suffered  for  you,  in  the 
name  of  the  Holy  Ghost  in  whom  you  were  regenerate 
and  born  again,  in  the  name  of  the  angels  and  the  arch- 
angels, in  the  name  of  the  thrones  and  the  dominions, 
in  the  name  of  the  cherubim  and  seraphim,  in  the 
name  of  the  patriarchs  and  prophets,  in  the  name  of 
the  blessed  monks  and  nuns  and  all  the  saints  of  God. 
The  peace  of  God  be  with  you  this  day,  and  your  dwell- 
ing forever  in  Sion;  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord. 
Amen."     And  all  the  people  wailed  "  Amen." 

A  death-like  silence  fell  upon  the  scene,  when  sud- 
denly shrieks  were  heard  in  the  rear  of  the  crowd,  and  a 
woman  in  disordered  garments,  her  hair  streaming  out 
behind  her,  carrying  a  child  in  her  arms  and  dragging 
another  at  her  side,  pusiicd  her  way  wildly  to  the  river's 
edge.     It  was  the  wife  of  Dumais. 

Dwelling  about  a  mile  and  a  half  from  the  village, 
she  had  heard  the  alarm  bell  ;  but  bein^  alone  with  her 
children,  whom  she  could  not  leave,  she  had  resigned 
herself  as  best  she  could  till  her  husband  j^hould  return 
and  tell  her  the  cause  of  the  excitement. 

The  woman,  when  she  saw  her  husband  thus  hanpfing 
on  the  lip  of  the  fall,  uttered  but  one  cry,  a  cry  so  ter- 
rible that  it  pierced  every  heart,  and  sank  in  a  merciful 
unconsciousness.     She  was  carried  to  the  manor  house, 


68 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


where  every  care  was  lavished  upon  her  by  Madame  de 
Beaumont  and  her  family. 

As  for  Dumais,  at  the  sight  of  his  wife  and  children, 
a  hoarse  scream,  inarticulate  and  like  the  voice  of  a 
wounded  beast,  forced  its  way  from  his  lips  and  made 
all  that  heard  it  shudder.  Then  he  appeared  to  fall 
into  a  kind  of  stupor. 

At  the  very  moment  when  the  old  priest  was  admin- 
istering the  absolution  our  travelers  arrived  upon  the 
scene.  Jules  thrust  through  the  crowd  and  took  his 
place  between  the  priest  and  his  uncle  de  Beaumont. 
Archie,  on  the  other  hand,  pushed  forward  to  the  water's 
edge,  folded  his  arms,  took  a  rapid  survey  of  the  situa- 
tion, and  calculated  the  chances  of  rescue. 

After  a  moment's  thought,  he  bounded  rather  than 
ran  toward  the  group  surrounding  Marcheterre.  He 
began  to  strip  off  his  clothes  and  to  give  directions  at 
the  same  time.  His  words  were  few  and  to  the  point : 
"  Captain.  I  am  like  a  fish  in  the  water ;  there  is  no  danger 
for  me,  but  for  the  poor  fellow  yonder,  in  case  I  should 
strike  that  block  of  ice  too  hard  and  dash  it  from  its 
place.  Stop  me  about  a  dozen  feet  above  the  island, 
that  I  may  calculate  the  distance  better  and  break  the 
shock.  Your  own  judgment  will  tell  you  what  else  to 
do.  Now,  for  a  strong  rope,  but  as  light  as  possible, 
and  a  good  sailor's  knot." 

While  the  old  captain  was  fastening  the  rope  under 
his  arms,  he  attached  another  rope  to  his  body,  taking 
the  coil  in  his  right  hand.  Thus  equipped,  he  sprang 
into  the  river,  where  he  disappeared  for  an  instant,  but 
when  he  came  to  the  surface  the  current  bore  him  rapid- 
ly toward  the  shore.  He  made  the  mightiest  efforts  to 
pain  the  island,  but  without  succeeding,  seeing  which 
Marcheterre  made  all  haste  to  draw  him  back  to  land 
before  his  strength  was  exhausted.     The  moment  he 


1 


laroe  de 

hildren, 
ce  of  a 
id  made 
I  to  fall 

admin- 
pon  the 
ook  his 
aumont. 
;  water's 
le  situa- 

ler  than 

re.     He 

tions  at 

;  point : 

danger 

should 

from  its 

;  island, 

eak  the 

else  to 

>ossible, 

e  under 
,  taking 

sprang 
mt,  but 
1  rapid- 

orts  to 
which 
to  land 
lent  he 


f 


THE  BREAKING   UP  OF  THE  ICE. 


69 


was  on  shore,  he  made  his  way  to  the  jutting  rock. 
The  spectators  scarcelj/^  breathed  when  they  saw  Archie 
plunge  into  the  flood.  Every  one  knew  of  his  giant 
strength,  his  exploits  as  a  swimmer  during  his  vaca- 
tion visits  to  the  manor  house  of  Beaumont.  The  anxi- 
ety of  the  crowd,  therefore,  had  been  intense  during  the 
young  man's  superhuman  efforts,  and,  on  seeing  his  fail- 
ure, a  cry  of  disappointment  went  up  from  every  breast. 

Jules  d'Haberville  was  all  unaware  of  his  friend's 
heroic  undertaking.  Of  an  emotional  and  sympathetic 
nature,  he  could  not  cndun  the  heart-rending  sight  that 
met  his  view.  After  one  glance  of  measureless  pity,  he 
had  fixed  his  eyes  on  the  ground  and  refused  to  raise 
them.  This  human  being  suspended  on  the  verge  of 
the  bellowing  gulf,  this  venerable  priest  administering 
from  afar  under  the  open  heaven  the  sacrament  of 
penance,  the  anguished  prayers,  the  sublime  invocation, 
all  <;eemed  to  him  a  dreadful  dream. 

Absoibed  in  these  conflicting  emotions,  Jules  d'Hab- 
erville had  no  idea  of  Archie's  efforts  to  save  Diimais 
He  had  heard  the  lamentations  which  greeted  the  first 
fruitless  effort,  and  had  attributed  them  to  some  little 
variation  in  the  spectacle  from  which  he  withheld  his 
gaze. 

The  bond  between  these  two  friends  was  no  ordi- 
nary tie;  it  was  the  love  between  a  David  and  a  Jona- 
than, "  passing  the  love  of  woman." 

Jules,  indeed,  spared  Archie  none  of  his  ridicule,  but 
the  privilege  of  tormenting  was  one  which  he  would  per- 
mit no  other  to  share.  Unlucky  would  he  be  who  should 
affront  Lochiel  in  the  presence  cf  the  impetuous  young 
Frenchman  ! 

Whence  arose  this  passionate  affection  ?  The  young 
men  had  apparently  little  in  common.  Lochiel  was 
somewhat  cold  in  demeanor,  while  Jules  was  exuberant- 


TO 


THE   CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


"fl^ 


ly  demonstrative.  They  resembled  one  another,  how- 
ever, in  one  point  of  profoundest  importance  ;  they  were 
both  high-hearted  and  generous  to  the  last  degree. 

Jose,  who  had  been  watching  Lochiel's  every  move- 
ment, and  who  well  knew  the  extravagance  of  Jules's  de- 
votion, had  slipped  behind  his  young  master,  and  stood 
ready  to  restrain,  by  force,  if  necessary,  this  fiery  and 
indomitable  spirit. 

The  anxiety  of  the  spectators  became  almost  unen- 
durable over  Archie's  second  attempt  to  save  Dumais, 
whom  they  regarded  as  utterly  beyond  hope.  The  con- 
vulsive trembling  of  the  unhappy  man  showed  that  his 
strength  was  rapidly  euu.^.j,.  Nothing  but  the  old  priest's 
prayers  broke  the  deathly  silence. 

As  for  Lochiel,  his  failure  had  but  strengthened 
him  in  his  heroic  purpose.  He  saw  clearly  that  the 
effort  was  likely  to  cost  him  his  life.  The  rope,  his  only 
safety,  might  well  break  wiien  charged  with  a  double 
burden  and  doubly  exposed  to  the  torrent's  force.  Too 
skillful  a  swimmer  was  he  not  to  realize  the  peril  of  en- 
deavoring to  rescue  one  who  could  in  no  way  help  him- 
self. 

Preserving  his  coolness,  however,  he  merely  said  to 
Marcheterre  : 

"  We  must  change  our  tactics.  It  is  this  roil  of  rope 
in  my  right  hand  which  has  hampered  me  from  first  to 
last." 

Thereupon  he  enlarged  the  loop,  which  he  passed 
over  his  right  shoulder  and  under  his  left  armpit,  in  or- 
der to  leave  both  arms  free.  This  done,  he  made  a 
bound  like  that  of  a  tiger,  and,  disapi)earing  beneath  the 
waves,  which  bore  him  downward  at  lightning  speed,  he 
did  not  come  to  the  surface  until  within  about  a  dozen  feet 
o.  the  island,  where,  according  to  agreement,  Marcheterre 
checked  his  course.     This  movement  appeared  likely  to 


k 


THE  BREAKING   UP  OF   THE  ICE. 


71 


T,  how- 
ey  were 
:e. 

^  move- 
es's  de- 
d  stood 
ery  and 

t  unen- 
)umais, 
he  con- 
that  his 
priest's 

[thened 
liat  the 
lis  only 
double 
Too 
of  en- 
p  him- 

laid  to 

>f  rope 
first  to 

massed 
in  Gr- 
ade a 
th  the 
od,  he 
n  feet 
etcrre 
ely  to 


prove  fatal,  for,  losing  his  balance,  he  was  so  turned  over 
that  his  head  remained  under  the  waves  while  the  rest 
of  his  body  was  held  horizontally  on  the  surface  of  the 
current.  Happily  his  coolness  did  not  desert  him  in  this 
crisis,  so  great  was  his  confidence  in  the  old  sailor.  The 
latter  promptly  let  out  two  more  coils  of  rope  with  a 
jerky  movement,  and  Lochiel,  employing  one  of  those 
devices  which  are  known  to  skillful  swimmers,  drew  his 
heels  suddenly  up  to  his  hips,  thrust  them  out  perpen- 
dicularly with  all  his  strength,  beat  the  water  violently 
on  one  side  with  his  hands,  and  so  regained  his  balance. 
Then,  thrusting  forward  his  right  shoulder  to  protect 
his  breast  from  a  shock  which  might  be  as  fatal  to  him- 
self as  to  Dumais,  he  was  swept  upon  the  island  in  a 
flash. 

Dumais,  in  spite  of  his  apparent  stupor,  had  lost 
nothing  of  what  was  passing.  A  ray  of  hope  had  strug- 
gled through  his  despair  at  sight  of  Lochiel's  tremendous 
leap  from  the  summit  of  the  rock.  Scarcely  had  the 
latter,  indeed,  reached  the  edge  of  the  ice,  where  he 
clung  with  one  hand  while  loosening  with  the  other  the 
coil  of  rope,  than  Dumais,  droi)ping  liis  hold  on  the  ce- 
dar, took  such  a  leap  upon  his  one  uninjured  leg  that 
he  fell  into  Archie's  very  arms. 

The  torrent  at  once  rose  upon  the  ice,  which,  borne 
down  by  the  double  weight,  reared  like  an  angry  horse. 
The  towering  mass,  pushed  irresistibly  by  the  torrent, 
fell  upon  the  cedar,  and  the  old  tree,  after  a  vain  resist- 
ance, sank  into  the  abyss,  dragging  with  it  in  its  fall  a 
large  portion  of  the  domain  over  which  it  had  held  sway 
for  centuries. 

Mighty  was  the  shout  that  went  up  from  both  banks 
of  South  River — a  shout  of  triumph  from  the  more  dis- 
tant spectators,  a  heart-rending  cry  of  anguish  from 
those  nearer  the  stage  whereon  this  drama  of  life  and 


72 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


I 


death  was  playing  itself  out.  Indeed,  all  had  disappeared, 
as  if  the  wand  of  a  mighty  enchanter  had  been  waved 
over  scene  and  actors.  From  bank  to  bank,  in  all  its 
breadth,  the  cataract  displayed  nothing  but  a  line  of 
gigantic  waves  falling  with  a  sound  of  thunder,  and  a 
curtain  of  pale  foam  waving  to  the  summit  of  its  crest. 

Jules  d'Haberville  had  not  recognized  his  friend  till 
the  moment  when,  for  the  second  time,  he  plunged  into 
the  waves.  Having  often  witnessed  his  exploits  as  a 
swimmer,  and  knowing  his  tremendous  strength,  Jules 
had  manifested  at  first  merely  a  bewildered  astonish- 
ment ;  but  when  he  saw  his  friend  disappear  beneath  the 
torrent,  he  uttered  such  a  mad  cry  as  comes  from  the 
heart  of  a  mother  at  sight  of  the  mangled  body  of  an 
only  son.  Wild  with  grief,  he  was  on  the  point  of  spring- 
ing into  the  river,  when  he  felt  himself  imprisoned  by 
the  iron  arms  of  Jos6. 

Prayers,  threats,  cries  of  rage  and  despair,  blows  and 
bites — all  were  utterly  wasted  on  the  faithful  Jos^. 

"  There,  there,  my  dear  Master  Jules,"  said  Jos^, 
"  strike  me,  bite  me,  if  that's  any  comfort  to  you,  but, 
for  God's  sake,  be  calm.  You'll  see  your  friend  again 
all  right  enough ;  you  know  he  dives  like  a  porpoise, 
and  one  never  knows  when  he  is  going  to  come  up  again 
when  once  he  goes  under  water.  Be  calm,  my  dear  lit- 
tle Master  Jules,  you  wouldn't  want  to  be  the  death  of 
poor  Jos^,  who  loves  you  so,  and  who  has  so  often  car- 
ried you  in  his  arms.  Your  father  sent  me  to  bring  you 
from  Quebec.  I  am  answerable  for  you,  body  and  soul, 
and  it  won't  be  my  fault  if  I  don't  hand  you  over  to 
him  safe  and  sound.  Otherwise,  you  see.  Master  Jules, 
why  just  a  little  bullet  through  old  Josh's  head  !  "Rut, 
hold  on,  there's  the  captain  hauling  in  on  the  rope  with 
all  his  might,  and  you  may  be  sure  Master  Archie  is  on 
the  other  end  of  it  and  lively  as  ever." 


4 


I 


THE  BREAKING  UP  OF  THE  ICE. 


71 


It  was  as  Jos^  said  ;  Marcheterre  and  his  compan- 
ions, in  furious  haste,  were  running  down  the  shore  and 
by  mighty  armfuls  dracjging  in  the  rope,  at  the  end  of 
which  they  felt  a  double  burden. 

In  another  moment  the  weight  was  dragged  ashore. 
It  was  all  that  they  could  do  to  set  Lochiel  free  from 
the  convulsive  clasp  of  Dumais,  who  gave  no  other  sign 
of  life.  Archie,  on  the  other  hand,  when  delivered  from 
the  embrace  which  was  itrangling  him,  vomited  a  few 
mouthfuls  of  water,  breathed  hoarsely,  and  exclaimed  : 

*'  He  is  not  dead  ;  it  is  nothing  morfe  than  a  swoon ; 
he  was  lively  enough  a  minute  ago." 

Dumais  was  carried  in  all  haste  to  the  manor  house, 
where  everything  that  the  most  loving  care  could  suggest 
was  done  for  him.  At  the  end  of  a  half-hour  some  drops 
of  wholesome  moisture  gathered  upon  his  brow,  and  a 
little  later  he  reopened  haggard  eyes.  After  staring 
wildly  around  the  room  for  a  time,  he  at  length  fixed  his 
regard  upon  the  old  priest.  The  latter  placed  his  ear  to 
Dumais's  lips,  and  the  first  words  he  gathered  were : 
"  My  wife  !     My  children  !  *  Mr.  Archie !  " 

"  Be  at  ease,  my  dear  Dumais,"  said  the  old  man. 
"  Your  wife  has  recovered  from  her  swoon ;  but,  as  she 
believes  you  to  be  dead,  I  must  be  careful  how  I  tell  her 
of  your  deliverance,  lest  I  kill  her  with  joy.  As  soon  as 
prudent  I  will  bring  her  to  you.  Meanwhile,  here  is  Mr. 
de  Lochiel,  to  whom,  through  God,  you  owe  your  life." 

At  the  sight  of  his  deliverer,  whom  he  had  not  yet 
recognized  among  the  attendants  who  crowded  about 
him,  a  change  came  over  the  sick  man.  He  embraced 
Archie,  he  pressed  his  lips  to  his  cheek,  and  a  flood  of 
tears  broke  from  his  eyes. 

"  How  can  I  ever  repay  you,"  said  he,  "  for  all  you 
have  done  for  me,  for  my  poor  wife,  and  for  my  chil- 
dren?" 


74 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


» 


"  By  getting  well  again  as  soon  as  possible,"  answered 
Lochiel  gayly.  "  The  seigneur  has  sent  a  messenger 
post-haste  to  Quebec  to  fetch  tlie  most  skillful  surgeon, 
and  another  to  place  relays  of  horses  along  the  whole 
route,  so  that  by  midday  to-morrow,  at  the  latest,  your 
leg  will  be  so  well  set  that  within  two  months  you  will 
be  able  again  to  carry  the  musket  against  your  old  ene- 
mies the  Iroquois." 

When  the  old  priest  entered  the  room  whl.her  they 
had  taken  his  adopted  daughter,  the  latter  was  sitting  up 
in  bed,  holding  her  youngest  child  in  her  arms  while  the 
other  slept  at  her  feet.  Pale  as  death,  cold,  and  unre- 
sponsive to  all  that  was  said  by  Madame  de  Beaumont 
and  the  other  women,  she  kept  repeating  incessantly  : 
"  My  husband  !  my  poor  husband  !  I  shall  not  even  be 
allowed  to  kiss  the  dead  body  of  my  husband,  the  father 
of  my  children  !  " 

When  she  saw  the  old  priest  she  stretched  out  her 
arms  to  him  and  cried  :  "  Is  it  you,  my  father,  you  who 
have  been  so  kind  to  me  since  childhood  ?  Is  it  you 
who  can  have  the  heart  to  come  and  tell  me  all  is  over? 
No,  I  know  your  love  too  well ;  you  can  not  bring 
such  a  message.  Speak,  I  implore  you,  you  whose  lips 
can  utter  nothing  but  good  !  " 

"Your  husband,"  said  the  old  man,  "will  receive 
Christian  burial." 

'*  He  is  dead,  then,"  cried  the  unhappy  woman  ;  and 
for  the  first  time  she  burst  into  tears. 

This  was  the  reaction  which  the  old  priest  looked 
for. 

"My  daughter,"  said  he,  "but  a  moment  ago  you 
were  praying  as  a  peculiar  favor  that  you  might  be  per- 
mitted once  more  to  embrace  the  body  of  your  husband, 
and  God  has  heard  your  petition.  Trust  in  him,  for  the 
mighty  hand  which  has  plucked  your  husband  out  of  the 


THE  BREAKING   UP  OF   THE  ICE. 


75 


abyss  is  able  also  to  give  him  back  to  life."  The  young 
woman  answered  with  a  fresh  storm  of  sobs. 

"  He  is  the  same  all-merciful  God,"  went  on  the  old 
priest,  "  who  su' J  to  Lazarus  in  the  tomb,  '  Friend,  I  say 
unto  you  arise !  *  All  hope  is  not  yet  lost,  for  your  hus- 
band in  his  present  state  of  suffering—" 

The  poor  woman,  who  had  hitherto  listened  to  her 
old  friend  without  understanding  him,  seemed  suddenly 
to  awaken  as  from  a  horrible  nightmare,  and  clasping 
her  sleeping  children  in  her  arms  she  sprang  to  the 
door. 

On  the  meeting  between  Dumais  and  his  family  we 
will  not  intrude. 

*'  Now,  let  us  go  to  supper,"  said  the  seigneur  to  his 
venerable  friend.  "  We  all  need  it,  but  more  especially 
this  heroic  young  man,"  added  he,  bringing  Archie  for- 
ward. 

"  Gently,  gently,  my  dear  sir,"  said  the  old  priest. 
"  We  have  first  a  more  pressing  duty  to  fulfill.  W^e  have 
to  thank  God,  who  has  so  manifested  his  favor  this 
night." 

All  present  fell  on  their  knees ;  and  the  old  priest  in 
a  short  but  toucliing  prayer  rendered  thanks  to  Him 
who  commands  the  sea  in  its  fury,  who  holds  His  creat- 
ures in  the  hollow  of  His  hand. 


II 


I'll 


'11 


I 


i 


CHAPTER   VI. 

A   SUPPER    AT    THE    HOUSE   OF    A    FRENCH-CANADIAN 

SEIONEUR. 

Half-cut-down,  a  pasty  costly  made, 
Where  quail  and  pifjeon,  lark  and  leveret,  lay 
Like  fossils  of  the  rock,  with  golden  yolks 
Imbedded  and  injellied. 

Tennyson. 

The  table  was  spread  in  a  low  but  spacious  room, 
whose  furniture,  though  not  luxurious,  lacked  nothing 
of  what  an  Englishman  calls  comfort. 

A  thick  woolen  carpet,  of  Canadian  manufacture  and 
of  a  diamond  pattern,  covered  the  greater  part  of  the 
dining-room  floor.  The  bright  woolen  curtains,  the 
backs  of  the  mahogany  sofa,  ottomans,  and  choirs  were 
embroidered  with  gigantic  birds,  such  as  it  would  have 
puzzled  the  most  brilliant  ornithologist  to  classify. 

A  great  sideboard,  reaching  almost  to  the  ceiling, 
displayed  on  its  many  shelves  a  service  of  blue  Mar- 
seilles china,  of  a  thickness  to  defy  the  awkwardness  of 
the  servants.  Over  the  lower  part  of  this  sideboard, 
which  served  the  purpose  of  a  cupboard  and  which 
might  be  called  the  ground  floor  of  the  structure,  pro- 
jected a  shelf  a  foot  and  a  half  wide,  on  which  stood  a 
sort  of  tall  narrow  cabinet,  whose  drawers,  lined  with 
green  cloth,  held  the  silver  spoons  and  forks.  On  this 
shelf  also  were  some  bottles  of  old  wine,  together  with  a 


^ 


were 
have 


r 


I 


y 


A    SUPPER. 


77 


great  silver  jar  of  water,  for  the  use  of  those  who  cared 
to  diUite  their  beverage. 

A  pile  of  plates  of  the  finest  porcelain,  two  decanters 
of  white  wine,  a  couple  of  tarts,  a  dish  of  whipped 
cream,  some  delicate  biscuits,  a  bowl  of  sweetmeats,  on 
a  little  table  near  the  sideboard  covered  with  a  white 
cloth,  constituted  the  dessert.  In  one  corner  of  the 
room  stood  a  sort  of  barrel-shaped  fountain  of  blue  and 
white  stone  china,  with  faucet  and  basin,  where  the 
family  might  rinse  their  hands. 

In  an  opposite  corner  a  great  closet,  containing 
square  bottles  filled  with  brandy,  absinthe,  liqueurs  of 
peach  kernel,  raspberry,  black  currant,  anise,  etc.,  for 
daily  use,  completed  the  furnishing  of  the  room. 

The  table  was  set  for  eight  persons.  A  silver  fork 
and  spoon,  wrapped  in  a  napkin,  were  placed  at  the  left 
of  each  plate,  and  a  bottle  of  light  wine  at  the  right. 
There  was  not  a  knife  on  the  table  during  the  serving  of 
the  courses ;  each  was  already  supplied  with  this  useful 
instrument,  which  only  the  Orientals  know  how  to  do 
without.  If  the  knife  one  affected  was  a  clasp  knife,  it 
was  carried  in  the  pocket ;  if  a  sheath-knife,  it  was  worn 
suspended  from  the  neck  in  a  case  of  morocco,  of  silk, 
or  even  of  birch-bark  ar'  Jtically  wrought  by  the  In- 
dians. The  handlt.  "  .ii  usually  of  ivory  riveted  with 
silver;  those  for  the  use  of  ladies  were  of  mother-of- 
pearl. 

To  the  right  of  each  plate  was  a  silver  cup  or  goblet. 
These  cups  were  of  different  forms  and  sizes,  some  be- 
ing of  simple  pattern  with  or  without  hoops,  some  with 
handles,  some  in  the  form  of  a  chalice,  some  worked  in 
relief,  and  very  many  lined  with  gold. 

A  servant,  placing  on  a  side-table  the  customary  appe- 
tizers ■  namely,  brandy  for  the  men  and  sweet  cordials 
for  thfe  women,  came  to  announce  that  the  supper  was 


IMWOMfleif  lOWRJHP 


73 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


I 


4 


served.  Eight  persons  sat  down  at  the  table— the  Seig- 
neur de  Beaumont  and  his  wife  ;  their  sister,  Madame 
Descarri^rcs  ;  the  old  priest ;  Captain  Marcheterre  and 
his  son  Henri  ;  and  lastly  Archie  and  Jules.  The  lady 
of  the  house  gave  the  place  of  honor  at  her  right  to  the 
priest,  and  the  next  place,  at  her  left,  to  the  old  captain. 
The  menu  opened  with  an  excellent  soup  (soup  was  then 
de  nc;ueur  for  dinner  and  supper  alike),  followed  by  a 
cold  pasty,  called  the  Easter  p-isty,  which,  on  account  of 
its  immense  proportions,  was  served  on  a  great  tray  cov- 
ered with  a  napkin.  This  pasty,  which  would  have 
aroused  the  envy  of  Brillat-Savarin,  consisted  of  one 
turkey,  two  chickens,  two  partridges,  two  pigeons,  the 
backs  and  thighs  of  two  rabbits,  all  larded  with  slices  of 
fat  pork.  The  balls  of  force-meat  on  which  rested,  as  on 
a  thick,  soft  bed,  these  gastronomic  riches,  were  made  of 
two  hams  of  that  animal  which  the  Jew  despises,  but 
which  the  Christian  treats  with  more  regard.  Large 
onions  scattered  here  and  there  and  a  liberal  seasoning 
of  the  finest  spices  completed  the  appetizing  marvel. 
But  a  very  important  point  was  the  cooking,  which  was 
beset  with  difficulty  ;  for  should  the  gigantic  structure 
be  allowed  to  break,  it  would  lose  at  least  fifty  per  cent 
of  its  flavor.  To  guard  against  so  lamentable  a  catastro- 
phe, the  lower  crust,  coming  at  least  three  inches  up  the 
sides,  was  not  less  than  an  inch  thick.  This  crust  itself, 
saturated  with  the  juices  of  all  the  good  things  inside, 
was  one  of  the  best  parts  of  this  unique  dish. 

Chickens  and  partridges  roasted  in  slices  of  pork, 
pigs  feet  ^  la  Saink-Mdn^houldy  a  hare  stew,  very  differ- 
ent from  that  with  which  the  Spanish  landlord  regaled 
the  unhappy  Gil  Bias — these  were  among  the  other 
dishes  which  the  seigneur  set  before  his  friends. 

For  a  time  there  was  silence  with  great  appetites  ;  but 
when  dessert  was  reached,  the  old  sailor,  who  had  been 


! 


'>a 


A   SUPPER, 


79 


eadng  like  a  hungry  wolf  and  drinking  proportionately, 
and  all  the  time  managing  to  keep  his  eyes  on  Archie, 
was  the  first  to  break  the  silence. 

"  It  would  seem,  young  man,"  said  he  facetiously, 
"  that  you  are  not  much  afraid  of  a  cold  in  your  head. 
It  would  seem,  also,  that  you  don't  really  need  to  breathe 
the  air  of  heaven,  and  that,  like  your  cousins  the  beaver 
and  otter,  you  only  put  your  nose  out  of  water  every 
half-hour,  for  form  sake,  and  to  sec  what's  going  on  in 
the  upper  world.  You  are  a  good  deal  like  a  salmon — 
when  one  gives  him  line  he  knows  how  to  profit  by  it. 
It's  my  opinion,  however,  that  gudgeons  like  you  are 
not  found  in  every  brook." 

*'  It  was  only  your  presence  of  mind,  captain,"  said 
Archie,  ''your  admirable  judgment  in  letting  out  the  ex- 
act quantity  of  rope,  that  prevented  me  smashing  my 
head  or  my  stomach  on  the  ice  ;  and  but  for  you,  poor 
Dumais,  instead  of  being  warm  in  bed  would  now  be 
rolling  under  the  St.  Lawrence  ice." 

**  A  nice  joke,"  cried  Marcheterre ;  "  to  hear  him 
talk  as  if  I  had  done  the  thing  !  It  was  very  necessary 
to  give  you  line  when  I  saw  that  you  threatened  to 
stand  on  your  head,  which  would  have  been  a  very  un- 
comfortable position  in  those  waves.  I  wish  to  the  d — 
Beg  pardon,  your  reverence,  I  was  just  going  to  swear  ;  it 
is  a  habit  with  us  sailors." 

"  Nonsense,"  laughed  the  old  priest,  "  you  have  been 
accustomed  to  it  so  long,  you  old  sinner,  that  one  more 
or  less  hardly  matters  ;  your  record  is  full,  and  you  no 
longer  keep  count  of  them." 

*'  When  the  tally-board  is  quite  full,  reverend  father," 
said  Marcheterre,  "  you  shall  just  pass  the  plane  over  it, 
as  you  have  done  so  often  before,  and  we'll  run  up  an- 
other score.  Moreover,  I  am  sure  not  to  escape  you, 
for  you  know  so  well  when  and  where  to  hook  me  and 


( 

v^ 


8o 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


drag  me  mto  a  blessed  harbor  with  the  rest  of  the  sin- 


ners. 


"You  are  too  severe,  sir,"  said  Jules.  "How  could 
you  wish  to  deprive  our  dear  captain  of  the  comfort  of 
swearing  a  little,  if  only  against  his  darky  cook,  who 
burns  his  fricassees  as  black  as  his  own  phiz  }  " 

"  You  hair-brained  young  scoundrel,"  cried  the  cap- 
tain with  a  ''omical  assumption  of  anger,  "  do  you  dare 
talk  to  me  so  after  the  trick  you  played  me  ?" 

"  I !  "  said  Jules  mnocently,  "  I  played  you  a  trick  ? 
I  am  incapable  of  it,  dear  captain.  You  are  slandering 
me  cruelly." 

"  Just  listen  to  the  young  saint  !  "  said  Marcheterre. 
"  I  slandering  him  !  No  matter,  let  us  drop  the  sub- 
ject for  a  moment.  *Lay  to'  for  a  bit,  boy;  I  shall 
know  how  to  find  you  again  soon.  I  was  going  to  say," 
continued  the  captain,  "  when  his  reverence  tumbled  my 
unfortunate  exclamation  to  the  bottom  of  the  hold  and 
shut  the  hatch  down  on  it,  that  if  out  of  curiosity,  Mr. 
Archie,  you  had  gone  down  to  the  foot  of  the  fall,  then, 
like  your  confrere  the  salmon,  you  would  probably  have 
shown  us  the  trick  of  swimming  up  it  again." 

The  spirit  of  mirth  now  ruled  the  conversation,  and 
in  repartee  and  witticism  the  company  found  relief  from 
the  intense  emotions  to  which  they  had  been  subjected. 

"  Fill  your  glasses  !  i^tteniif  n,  everybody,"  cried  the 
Seigneur  de  Beaumont.  "  I  am  going  to  propose  a 
health  which  will,  I  am  very  sure,  be  received  with  ac- 
clamation." 

"  It  is  very  easy  for  you  to  talk,"  said  the  old  priest, 
whom  they  had  honored  especially  by  giving  him  a  gob- 
let richly  carved,  but  holding  nearly  double  what  those 
of  the  other  guests  could  contain.  "  I  am  over  ninety, 
and  I  have  no  longer  the  hard  head  of  a  twenty-five  year 
old." 


« 


A    SUPPER. 


8l 


le  sin- 
could 
fort  of 
c,  who 

le  cap- 
u  dare 

trick  ? 
idering 

leterre. 
e  sub- 
I  shall 
o  say," 
led  my 
>ld  and 
ty,  Mr. 
I,  then, 
y  have 

m,  and 
;f  from 
ected. 
ed  the 
)ose  a 
ith  ac- 

priest, 
a  gob- 
those 
:iinety, 
^e  year 


• 


t 


"Come,  my  old  friend,"  said  the  seigneur,  "you  will 
not  have  far  to  go,  for  you  must  sleep  here  to-night. 
Moreover,  if  your  legs  should  become  unsteady,  it  will 
pass  for  the  weakness  of  old  age,  and  no  one  will  be 
shocked." 

"  You  forget,  seigneur,"  said  the  priest,  laughing, 
"  that  I  have  accepted  your  kind  invitation  to  help  take 
care  of  poor  Dumais  to-night.  I  intend  to  sit  up  with 
him.  If  I  take  too  much  wine,  what  use  do  you  think 
I  could  be  to  the  poor  fellow }  " 

**  Indeed,  you  shall  go  to  bed,"  saiJ  the  seigneur. 
"The  master  of  the  house  decrees  it.  We  will  rouse 
you  in  case  of  need.  Have  no  anxiety  as  to  Dumais 
and  his  wife  ;  their  friend  Mrs.  Couture  is  with  them. 
I  am  even  sending  home,  after  they  have  supped,  a  lot 
of  their  gossips  and  cronies,  who  wanted  to  be  in  the 
way  all  night  and  use  up  the  fresh  air  which  the  sick 
man  is  so  much  in  need  of.  We  will  all  be  up  if  neces- 
sary." 

"  You  argue  so  well,"  answered  the  priest,  "  that  I 
must  even  do  as  you  say,"  and  he  poured  a  fair  quan- 
tity of  wine  into  his  formidable  cup. 

Then  the  Seigneur  de  Beaumont  f  aid  to  Archie,  with 
solemn  emphasis :  "  What  you  have  done  is  beyond  all 
praise.  I  know  not  which  is  most  admirable,  the  splen- 
did spirit  of  self-sacrifice  which  moved  you  to  risk  your 
life  for  that  of  a  stranger,  or  the  courage  and  coolness 
which  enabled  you  to  succeed.  You  possess  all  the 
qualities  most  requisite  to  the  career  you  are  to  follow. 
A  soldier  myscif,  I  prophesy  great  success  for  you.  Let 
us  drink  to  the  health  of  Mr.  de  Lochiel !  " 

The  toast  was  drunk  with  ardent  enthusiasm. 

In  returning  thanks,  Archie  said  modestly  : 

"  I  am  bewildered  by  so  much  praise  for  so  simple  a 

performance.     I  was  probably  the  only  one  presen'.  vho 
6 


82 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


knew  how  to  swim;  for  any  one  else  would  have  done 
as  I  did.  It  is  claimed  that  your  Indian  women  throw 
their  infants  into  the  water  and  let  them  make  the  best 
of  their  way  to  shore  ;  this  teaches  them  to  swim  very 
early.  I  am  tempted  to  believe  that  our  mothers  in  the 
Scottish  Highlands  follow  the  same  excellent  custom. 
As  long  as  I  can  remember  I  have  been  a  swimmer." 

**  At  your  fooling  agaiii,  Mr.  Archie,"  said  the  cap- 
tain. "  As  for  me,  I  have  been  a  sailor  these  fifty  years, 
and  I  have  never  yet  learned  how  to  swim.  Not  that  I 
have  never  falieii  into  the  water,  but  I  have  always  had 
the  good  luck  to  catch  hold  of  something.  Failing  that, 
I  always  kept  my  feet  going,  as  cats  and  dogs  do. 
Sooner  or  later  some  one  always  hauled  me  out ;  and 
here  I  am. 

"  That  reminds  me  of  a  little  adventure  which  hap- 
pened to  me  when  1  was  a  sailor.  My  ship  was  anchored 
by  the  banks  of  the  Mississippi.  It  might  have  been 
about  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening,  a''*er  one  of  those  suf- 
focating days  which  one  can  experience  only  in  the 
tropics.  I  had  made  my  bed  up  in  the  bows  of  my  ship, 
in  order  to  enjoy  the  evening  breezes.  But  for  the  mus- 
quitoes,  the  sand  flies,  the  black  flies,  and  the  infernal 
noise  of  the  alligators,  which  had  gathered,  I  think, 
from  the  utmost  limits  of  the  Father  of  Streams  to  give 
me  a  good  serenading,  a  monarch  of  the  East  might 
have  envied  me  my  l)ed.  I  am  not  naturally  timid,  but 
I  have  an  unconquerable  horror  of  all  kinds  of  reptiles, 
whether  they  crawl  on  land  or  wriggle  in  the  water." 

"  Captain,  you  have  a  refined  and  aristocratic  taste 
which  does  you  much  honor,"  said  Jules. 

"  Do  you  dare  to  speak  to  me  again,  you  disreputa- 
ble," cried  Marcheterre,  shaking  his  great  fist  at  him.  I 
was  about  forgetting  you,  but  your  turn  will  come  very 
soon.    Meanwhile,  I  go  on  with  my  story.     I  w.is  feeling 


r* 


\ 


A   SUPPER. 


83 


done 
:hrow 
:  best 

very 
n  the 
stom. 
r." 

I  cap- 
years, 
that  I 
^s  had 
g  that, 
;s   do. 

;  and 

1  hap- 
:hored 
I  been 
se  suf- 
in  the 
ship, 
mus- 
"ernal 
hink, 
o  give 
might 
d,  but 
ptiles, 
r." 
:  taste 

cputa- 
im.  I 
e  very 
Iceling 


very  safe  and  comfortable  on  my  mat,  whence  I  could 
hear  the  hungry  monsters  snapping  their  jaws.  I  de- 
rided them,  saying  :  *  You  would  be  delighted,  my  lambs, 
to  make  a  meal  off  my  carcass,  but  there's  one  little 
difficulty  in  the  way  of  it ;  though  you  should  have  to 
fast  all  your  lives  through  like  hermits  I  would  never  be  the 
one  to  break  your  fasting,  for  my  conscience  is  too  tender.* 

'*  I  don't  know  exactly  how  the  thing  happened,  but 
I  ended  by  fulling  asleep,  and  when  I  awoke  I  was  in 
the  midst  of  these  jolly  companions.  You  could  never 
imagine  the  horror  that  seized  me,  in  spite  of  my  cus- 
tomary coolness.  1  did  not  lose  my  presence  of  mind, 
however.  While  under  water  I  remembered  that  there 
was  a  ro[)e  hanging  from  the  bowsprit.  As  I  came  to 
the  surface  I  had  the  good  fortune  to  catch  it.  I  vvas 
as  active  as  a  monkey  in  those  days  ;  but  I  did  not 
escape  without  leaving  as  a  keepsake  in  the  throat  of  a 
very  barbarous  alligator  one  of  my  boots  and  a  valued 
portion  of  the  calf  of  my  leg. 

"Now  for  your  turn,  you  imp,"  continued  the  cap- 
tain, turning  to  Jules.  "  I  must  get  even  with  you,  sooner 
or  later,  for  the  trick  you  ])layed  me.  On  my  return 
from  Martinique  last  year,  I  met  monsieur  one  morning 
in  Quebec  Lower  Town  as  he  was  on  the  point  of  cross- 
ing the  river  to  return  home  for  his  vacation.  After  a 
perfect  squall  of  embraces,  from  which  I  escaped  with 
difficulty  by  sheering  off  to  larboard,  I  commissioned 
him  to  tell  my  family  of  my  arrival,  and  to  say  that  I 
could  not  be  at  St.  Thomas  for  several  days.  What  did 
this  young  saint  do  ?  He  went  to  my  house  at  eight 
o'clock  in  the  evening,  shouting,  like  all  possessed :  *  Oh, 
joy  !  oh,  rapture  !     Three  cheers  and  a  tiger  ! ' 

**  *  My  husband  has  come  !  *  exclaimed  Madame 
Marchetcrre.  '  Father  has  come  I '  cried  my  two  daugh- 
ters. . 


84 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD, 


"  *  Certainly,*  said  he ;  'what  else  could  I  be  making 
all  this  fuss  about  ? ' 

"  Then  he  kissed  my  good  wife — there  was  no  great 
difficulty  in  that.  He  wanted  to  kiss  the  girls,  too,  but 
they  boxed  his  ears  and  sheered  off  with  all  sails  set. 
What  does  your  reverence  think  of  this  for  a  beginning, 
to  say  nothing  of  what  followed  ?" 

"  Ah,  Mr.  Jules,"  cried  the  old  priest,  "  these  are 
nice  things  I  am  hearing  about  you.  Queer  conduct  this 
for  a  pupil  of  the  Jesuit  fathers." 

"  Vou  see,  Mr.  Abbe,"  said  Jules,  "  that  all  that  was 
only  a  bit  of  fun  to  enable  me  to  share  the  happiness  of 
that  estimable  family.  I  knew  too  well  the  ferocious 
virtue,  immovable  as  the  Cape  of  Storms,  of  these  daugh- 
ters of  the  sea.  I  well  knew  that  tney  would  box  my 
ears  soundly  and  sheer  off  with  all  sails  set." 

*'  I  begin  to  believe  that  you  are  telling  the  truth, 
after  all,"  said  the  old  priest,  "  and  that  there  were  no 
evil  designs  on  your  part.  I  know  my  Jules  pretty  thor- 
oughly." 

"  Worse  and  more  of  it,"  said  the  captain.  "  Take 
his  part,  do  ;  that's  all  he  was  wanting.  But  we'll  see 
what  you  think  when  you  hear  the  rest.  When  my  young 
gentleman  had  finished  his  larking,  he  said  to  my  wife : 
*  The  captain  told  me  to  say  he  would  be  here  to-mor- 
row evening,  in  the  neighborhood  of  ten  o'clock,  and 
that,  as  his  business  had  prospered  exceedingly  (which, 
indeed,  was  all  true),  he  wished  that  his  friends  should 
celebrate  his  good  luck  with  him.  He  wished  that  there 
should  be  a  ball  and  supper  going  on  at  his  house  when 
he  arrived,  which  would  be  just  as  the  guests  were  sit- 
ting down  to  table.  Make  ready,  therefore,  for  this 
celebration,  to  which  he  has  invited  myself  and  my 
brotK:r  de  Lochiel.  This  puts  me  out  a  little,'  added 
the  young  hypocrite,  'for  I  am  in  a  great  hurry  to  g'^t 


ft 


I 


A   SUPPER. 


85 


home,  but  for  you  ladies  there  is  nothing  that  I  would 
not  do.' 

"  '  My  husband  does  not  consider  that  he  is  giving 
me  too  little  time/  said  Madame  Marcheterre.  *  We 
have  no  market  here.  My  cook  is  ver'^  old  to  under- 
take so  much  in  one  day.  The  case  is  desperate,  but 
to  please  him  we  must  accomplish  the  impossible.* 

"  '  Perhaps  I  can  be  of  some  use  to  you,'  said  the 
hypocrite,  pretending  to  sympathize  with  her.  *  I  will 
undertake  with  pleasure  to  send  out  the  invitations.' 

"  '  My  dear  Jules,'  said  my  wife,  'that  would  be  the 
greatest  help.  You  know  our  society.  I  give  you  carte 
blanche.' 

"  My  wife  ran  all  o  r  the  parish  to  get  previsions 
for  the  feast.  She  and  the  girls  spent  the  greater  part 
of  the  night  helping  the  old  cook  make  pastries,  whipped 
creams,  blanc-mange,  biscuits,  and  a  lot  of  sweet  stuff 
that  I  wouldn't  give  for  one  steak  of  fresh  codfish,  such 
as  one  gets  on  the  Banks  of  Newfoundland.  Mr.  Jules, 
for  his  part,  did  things  up  in  style.  That  night  he  sent 
out  two  messengers,  one  to  the  northeast,  the  other  to  the 
southwest,  carrying  invitations ;  so  that  by  six  o'clock 
the  next  evening,  thanks  to  his  good  management,  my 
house  was  full  of  guests,  who  were  whirling  around  like 
so  many  gulls,  while  I  was  anchored  in  Quebec,  and 
poor  madame,  in  spite  of  a  ,  ightful  cold,  was  doing  the 
honors  of  the  house  with  the  best  grace  possible.  Wha. 
do  you  think,  gentlemen,  of  a  trick  like  that ;  and  whai, 
have  you  to  say  in  your  defense,  you  wolf  in  sheep's 
clothing .? " 

'*  I  wished,"  said  Jules,  '*  that  everybody  should  share 
beforehand  in  the  joy  of  the  family  over  the  good  for- 
tune of  so  dear  and  so  generous  a  friend.  Also,  if  you 
coi'ld  have  seen  the  regret  and  general  col  ^^nation 
vvheri^  toward  eleven  o'clock,  it  was  found  necessLry  to 


86 


THE   CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


sit  down  at  table  without  waitirg  for  you  any  longer, 
you  would  certainly  have  been  moved  to  tears.  The 
morrow,  you  will  remember,  was  a  fast  day.  As  for 
your  wife,  she  seems  to  be  without  the  smallest  idea  of 
gratitude.  Observing,  a  little  before  eleven,  that  she 
was  in  no  hurry  to  bring  on  the  supper,  and  that  she 
was  beginning  to  be  anxious  about  her  dear  husband,  I 
whispered  a  word  in  her  ear,  and  for  thanks  she  broke 
her  fan  over  my  back." 

Everybody,  the  captain  himself  inclurl^^d,  burst  out 
laughing. 

"  How  is  it  you  never  told  us  of  this  before,  Marche- 
terre  ?"  said  the  Seigneur  de  Beaumont. 

'*  It  was  hardly  necessary,"  said  the  captain,  '*to  pub- 
lish it  to  the  world  that  we  had  been  tricked  by  this 
young  rascal.  Moreover,  it  would  have  been  no  partic- 
ular satisfaction  to  us  to  inform  you  that  you  owed  the 
entertainment  to  the  munificence  of  Mr.  Jules  d'Haber- 
ville  ;  we  preferred  to  have  the  credit  of  it  ourselves. 
I  only  tell  it  to  you  to-day  because  it  is  too  good  to 
keep  any  longer." 

"  It  seems  to  me,  Mr.  Diver,"  continued  Marche- 
terre,  addressing  Archie,  "  that,  in  spite  of  your  reserved 
and  philosophical  demeanor,  you  were  an  accomplice  of 
Master  Jules." 

"I  give  you  my  word,"  replied  Lochiel,  "that  I 
knew  nothing  of  it  whatever.  Not  till  the  next  day  did 
Jules  take  me  into  his  confidence,  whereupor.  I  gave 
him  a  good  scolding." 

'*  You  could  hardly  say  much,"  said  Jules,  "  after  the 
rate  at  which  you  kicked  round  your  great  Scotch  legs 
with  ^reat  peril  to  the  more  civilized  bains  of  your  neigh- 
bors. You  have  doubtless  forgotten  that,  since  you 
were  not  content  with  French  cotillons,  such  as  are  ac- 
cepted  among  all  civilized  people,  to  please  you  we  had 


% 


A   SUPPER. 


8; 


r  the 
legs 

eigh- 
you 
■e  ac- 
had 


to  have  Scotch  reels.  The  music  for  these  our  fiddler 
picked  up  by  ear  in  an  instant.  It  was  a  very  simple 
matter ;  he  merely  had  to  scrape  his  strings  till  they 
screeched  as  if  a  lot  of  cats  were  shut  up  in  a  bag  and 
some  one  were  pulling  their  tails." 

*'  Oh,  you  are  a  bad  lot,"  said  the  captain  ;  "  but 
won't  you  come  and  take  supper  with  us  to-morrow, 
you  and  your  friend,  and  make  your  peace  with  the 
family  ? " 

"  That's  the  way  to  talk,  now  !  "  said  Jules. 

*'  Listen  to  the  irrepressible,"  tetorted  Marcheterre. 

As  it  was  now  very  late,  the  party  broke  up,  after 
drinking  the  health  of  the  old  sailor  and  his  son  and 
pronouncing  the  eulogies  they  deserved  for  the  part 
they  had  played  that  night. 

The  young  men  had  to  stay  some  days  at  St.  Thom- 
as. The  flood  continued.  The  roads  were  deluged. 
The  nearest  bridge,  even  supposing  it  had  escaped  the 
general  disaster,  was  some  leagues  southwest  of  the  vil- 
lage, and  the  rain  came  down  in  torrents.  They  were 
obliged  to  wait  till  the  river  should  be  clear  of  ice,  so  as 
to  cross  in  a  boat  below  the  falls.  They  divided  their 
time  between  the  seigneur's  family,  their  other  friends, 
and  poor  Dumais,  whom  the  seigneur  would  not  permit 
to  be  moved.  The  sick  man  entertained  them  with 
stories  of  his  fights  against  the  English  and  their  savage 
allies,  and  with  accounts  of  the  manners  and  customs  of 
the  aborigines. 

"  Although  I  am  a  native  f)f  St.  Thomas,"  said  Du- 
mais one  day,  "  I  was  brought  up  in  the  parish  of  Sorel. 
When  I  was  ten  years  old  and  my  brother  nine,  while  we 
were  in  the  woods  one  day  picking  raspberries  a  party  of 
Iroquois  surprised  and  raptured  us.  After  a  long  march, 
we  came  to  the  place  where  their  canoe  was  hidden 
among  the  brambles  by  the  water's  edge  ;  and  they  took 


If 


88 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


US  to  one  of  tie  islands  of  the  St.  Lawrence.  My  father 
and  his  three  brothers,  armed  to  the  teeth,  set  out  to 
rescue  us.  They  were  only  four  against  ten  ;  but  I 
may  say  without  boasting  that  my  father  and  my  uncles 
were  not  exactly  the  kind  of  men  to  be  trifled  with. 
They  were  tall,  broad-chested  fellows,  with  their  shoul- 
ders well  set  back. 

**  It  might  have  been  about  ten  o'clock  in  the  evening. 
My  brother  and  I,  surrounded  by  our  captors,  were 
seated  in  a  little  clearing  in  the  midst  of  thick  woods, 
when  we  heard  my  father's  voice  shouting  to  us :  *  Lie 
flat  down  on  your  stomachs.'  I  immediately  seized  my 
little  brother  around  the  neck  and  flattened  him  down 
to  the  ground  with  me.  The  Iroquois  were  hardly  on 
their  feet  when  four  well-aimed  shots  rang  out  and  four 
of  the  band  fell  squirming  like  eels.  The  rest  of  the 
vermin,  not  wishing,  I  suppose,  to  fire  at  hazard  against 
the  invisible  enemies  to  whom  they  were  serving  as  tar- 
gets, started  for  the  shelter  of  the  trees ;  but  our  rescuers 
gave  them  no  time.  Falling  upon  them  with  the  butts 
of  their  muskets,  they  beat  down  three  at  the  first  charge, 
and  the  others  saved  themselves  by  flight.  Our  mother 
almost  died  of  joy  when  we  were  given  back  to  her 
arms." 

In  return,  Lochiel  told  the  poor  fellow  about  the 
combats  of  the  Scottish  Highlanders,  their  manners  and 
customs,  and  the  semi-fabulous  exploits  of  his  hero,  the 
great  Wallace  ;  while  Jules  amused  him  with  th^  story 
of  his  practical  jokes,  or  with  such  bits  of  histor)  as  he 
might  appreciate. 

When  the  young  men  were  bidding  Dumais  farewell, 
the  latter  said  to  Archie  with  tears  in  his  eyes  : 

"  It  is  probable,  sir,  that  I  shall  never  see  you  again, 
but  be  sure  that  I  will  carry  you  ever  in  my  heart,  and 
will  pray  for  you,  I  and  my  family,  every  day  of  our 


A   SUPPER. 


89 


rain, 
and 
our 


lives.  It  is  painful  for  me  to  think  that  even  should  you 
return  to  New  France,  a  poor  man  like  me  wouli  have 
no  means  of  displaying  his  gratitude." 

**  Who  knows,"  said  Lochiel,  **  perhaps  you  will  do 
more  for  me  than  I  have  done  for  you." 

Was  the  Highlander  gifted  with  that  second  si^rht  of 
which  his  fellow-countrymen  are  wont  to  boast  ?  Let  us 
judge  from  the  sequel. 

On  the  30th  day  of  April,  at  ten  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing, with  weather  magnificent  but  roads  altogether  exe- 
crable, our  travelers  bade  farewell  to  their  friends  at  St. 
Thomas.  They  had  yet  six  leagues  to  go  before  arriv- 
ing at  St.  Jean-Port-Joli,  and  tnie  whole  distance  they 
had  to  travel  afoot,  cursing  at  the  rain  which  had  re- 
moved the  last  traces  of  ice  and  snow.  In  traversing 
the  road  across  the  plain  of  Cape  St.  Ignace  it  was  even 
worse.  They  sank  to  their  knees,  and  their  horse  was 
mired  to  the  belly  and  had  to  be  dug  out.  Jules,  the 
most  impatient  of  the  threr*.  kept  grumbling  : 

"  If  I  had  had  anything  to  do  with  the  weather  we 
would  never  have  had  this  devil  of  a  rain  which  has 
turned  all  the  roads  into  bogholes." 

Perceiving  that  Jos^  shook  his  head  whenever  he 
heard  this  remark,  he  asked  him  what  he  meant. 

"Oh,  Master  Jules,"  said  Jos^,  **I  am  only  a  poor 
ignorant  fellow,  but  I  can't  help  thinking  that  if  you 
had  charge  of  the  weather  we  shouldn't  be  much 
better  off.  Take  the  case  of  what  happened  to  Davy 
Larouche." 

**When  we  get  across  this  cursed  boghole,"  said 
Jules,  "you  shall  tell  us  the  story  of  Davy  Larouche. 
Oh,  that  I  had  the  legs  of  a  heron,  like  this  haughty 
Scotchman  who  strides  before  us  whistling  a  pibrc:h 
just  fit  for  these  roads." 

"  What  would  you  give,"  said  Archie,  "  to  exchange 


90 


THE   CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


i 


\      A 


your  diminutive  French  legs  for  those  of  the  haughty 
Highlander  ?  " 

'*Keep  your  legs,"  retorted  Jules,  **for  when  you 
have  to  run  away  from  the  enemy." 

Once  well  across  the  meadow,  the  young  men  asked 
Jose  for  his  story, 

*'I  must  tell  yod,"  said  the  latter,  "that  a  fellow 
named  Davy  Larouche  once  lived  in  the  parish  of  St. 
Roch.  He  was  a  good  enough  provider,  neither  very 
rich  nor  very  poor.  I  used  to  think  that  the  dear  fellow 
was  not  quite  sharp  enough,  which  prevented  him  mak- 
ing great  headway  in  the  world 

"  It  happened  that  one  morning  Davy  got  up  earlier 
than  usual,  put  through  his  chores  in  the  stable,  returned 
to  the  house,  fixed  his  whiskers  as  if  it  were  Sunday, 
and  got  himself  up  in  his  best  clothes. 

"  *  Yhere  are  you  going,  my  good  man  ? '  asked  his 
wife.  '  What  a  swell  you  are !  Are  you  going  to  see 
the  girls  ?  * 

"You  must  understand  that  this  was  a  joke  of  hers; 
she  knew  that  her  husband  was  bashful  with  women,  and 
not  at  all  inclined  to  run  after  them.  As  for  La  Th^que 
herself,  she  was  the  most  facetious  little  body  on  the 
whole  south  side,  inheriting  it  from  her  old  Uncle  Ber- 
nuchon  Castonguay.  She  often  used  to  say,  pointing  to 
her  husband,  *  You  see  that  great  fool  yonder  ? '  Cer- 
tainly not  a  very  polite  way  to  speak  of  her  husband. 
'Well,  he  would  never  have  had  the  pluck  to  ask  me  in 
marriage,  though  I  was  the  prettiest  girl  in  the  parish,  if 
I  had  not  met  him  more  than  half-way.  Y'et,  how  his 
eyes  used  to  shine  whenever  he  saw  me  !  I  took  pity 
on  him,  because  he  wasn't  making  much  progress.  To 
be  sure,  I  was  even  more  anxious  about  it  than  he  ;  he 
had  four  good  acres  of  land  to  his  name,  while  I  had 
nothing  but  this  fair  body  of  mine.' 


A    SUPPER. 


91 


laughty 
en  you 

I  asked 

.  fellow 
\  of  St. 
er  very 
r  fellow 
m  male- 

•  earlier 
^turned 
Junday, 

ked  his 
to  see 

f  hers; 
sn,  and 
h^que 
on  the 
!  Ber- 
ing to 
Cer- 
sband. 
me  in 
rish,  if 
)w  his 
c  pity 
To 
;  he 

II  had 


f 


**  She  was  lying  a  little  to  be  sure,  the  puss,"  added 
Jos^.  "  She  had  a  cow,  a  yearling  bull,  six  sheep,  her 
spinning-wheel,  a  box  so  full  of  clothes  that  you  had  to 
kneel  on  it  to  shut  it,  and  in  the  box  fifty  silver  francs. 

"'I  took  pity  on  him  one  evening,*  said  she,  'when 
he  called  at  our  house  and  sat  in  the  corner  without 
even  daring  to  speak  to  me.  "  I  know  you  are  in  love 
with  me,  you  great  simpleton,"  said  I.  "  Go  and  speak  to 
my  father,  who  is  waiting  for  you  in  the  next  room,  and 
you  can  get  the  banns  published  next  Sunday."  More- 
over, since  he  sat  there  v/ithout  budging  and  as  red  as  a 
turkey-cock,  I  took  him  by  the  shoulders  and  pushed 
him  into  the  other  room.  My  father  opened  a  closet 
and  brought  out  a  flask  of  brandy  to  encourage  him. 
Well,  in  spite  of  all  these  hints,  he  had  to  get  three 
drinks  into  his  body  before  he  found  his  tongue.* 

"  Well,  as  I  was  saying,"  continued  Jos^,  "  La  Th^que 
said  to  her  husband  :  '  Are  you  going  to  see  the  girls, 
my  man  ?  Look  out  for  yourself  '  If  you  get  off  any 
pranks  I  will  let  you  into  the  soup.* 

"'You  know  very  well  I'm  not,'  said  Larouche 
laughingly,  and  flicking  her  on  the  back  ith  his  whip. 
*  Here  we  are  at  the  end  of  March,  my  grain  is  all  thrashed 
out,  and  I'm  going  to  carry  my  tithes  to  the  priest.' 

*"That*s  right,  my  man,'  said  his  wife,  who  was  a 
good  Christian ;  '  we  must  render  back  to  God  a  share 
of  what  he  has  just  given  us.' 

"  Larouche  then  threw  his  sacks  upon  the  sled,  lit 
his  pipe  with  a  hot  coal,  sprang  aboard,  and  set  off  in 
high  spirits. 

"  As  he  was  passing  a  bit  of  woods  he  met  a  traveler, 
who  approached  by  a  side  path. 

"This  stranger  was  a  tall,  handsome  man  of  about 
thirty.  Long  fair  hair  fell  about  his  shoulders,  his  blue 
eyes  were  as  sweet  as  an  angel's,  and  his  countenance 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
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2.5 

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y 


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Photographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


23  WIST  MAIN  STRUT 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14S80 

(716)  872-4503 


92 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


u  ( 


(( < 


« i 


« < 


wore  a  sort  of  tender  sadness.  His  dress  was  a  long 
blue  robe  tied  at  the  waist.  Larouche  said  he  had  never 
seen  any  one  so  beautiful  as  this  stranger,  and  that  the 
loveliest  woman  was  ugly  in  comparison. 

Peace  be  with  you,  my  brother,'  said  the  traveler. 
I  thank  you  for  your  good  wishes,*  answered 
Davy  ;  '  a  good  word  burns  nobody's  mouth.  But  that 
is  something  I  don't  particularly  need.  I  am  at  peace, 
thank  God,  with  everybody.  I  have  an  excellent  wife, 
good  children,  we  get  on  well  together,  all  my  neighbors 
love  me.     I  have  nothing  to  desire  in  the  way  of  peace.' 

"  *  I  congratulate  you,'  said  the  traveler.     *  Your  sled 
is  well  loaded  ;  where  are  you  going  this  morning .?  * 
It  is  my  tithes  which  I  am  taking  to  the  priest.' 
It  would  seem,  then,*  said  the  stranger,  *  that  you 
have  had  a  good    harvest,,  reckoning  one   measure   of 
tithes  to  every  twenty-six  measures  of  clean  grain.* 

"  *  Good  enough,  I  confess ;  but  if  I  had  had  the 
weather  just  to  my  fancy  it  would  have  been  something 
very  much  better.' 

**  *  You  think  so,'  said  the  traveler. 

"  *  No  manner  of  doubt  of  it,'  answered  Davy. 

"  *  Very  well,'  said  the  stranger;  *now  you  shall  have 
just  what  weather  you  wish,  and  much  good  may  it  do 
you.* 

**  Having  spoken  thus,  he  disappeared  around  the 
foot  of  a  little  hill. 

'*  *  That's  queer  now,'  thought  Davy.  *  I  know  very 
well  that  there  are  wicked  people  who  go  about  the 
world  putting  spells  on  men,  women,  children,  or  ani- 
mals. Take  the  case  of  the  woman,  Lestin  Coulombe, 
who,  on  the  very  day  of  her  wedding,  made  fun  of  a 
certain  beggar  who  squinted  in  his  left  eye.  She  had 
good  cause  to  regret  it,  poor  thing ;  for  he  said  to  her 
angrily  :  "  Take  care,  young  woman*  that  your  own  chil- 


\ 


A   SUPPER. 


93 


r  very 
It  the 
r  ani- 
ambe, 
of  a 
had 
•  her 
chil- 


dien  don't  turn  out  cross-eyed."  She  trembled,  poor 
creature,  for  every  child  she  brought  into  the  world,  and 
not  without  good  cause  ;  for  the  fourteenth,  when  looked 
at  closely,  showed  a  blemish  on  its  right  eye.*  '* 

*'  It  seems  to  me,"  said  Jules,  *'  that  Madame  Lestin 
must  have  had  a  mighty  dread  of  cross-eyed  children  if 
she  could  not  be  content  to  present  her  dear  husband 
with  one  even  after  twenty  years  of  married  life.  Evi- 
dently she  was  a  thoughtful  and  easy-going  woman,  who 
took  her  time  about  whatever  she  was.  going  to  do." 

Jose  shook  his  head  with  a  dubious  air  and  con- 
tinued : 

"  *  Well,'  thought  Larouche  to  himself,  *  though  bad 
folk  go  about  the  country  putting  spells  on  people,  I 
have  never  heard  of  saints  wandering  around  Canada  to 
work  miracles.  After  all,  it  is  no  business  of  mine.  I 
won't  say  a  word  about  it,  and  we'll  see  next  spring.* 

"  About  that  time  the  next  year  Davy,  very  much 
ashamed  of  himself,  got  up  secretly,  long  before  day- 
light, to  take  his  tithes  to  the  priest.  He  had  no  need 
of  horse  or  sleigh.  He  carried  the  whole  thing  in  his 
handkerchief. 

"  As  the  sun  was  rising  he  once  more  met  the  stran- 
ger, who  said  to  him  : 

"  *  Peace  be  with  you,  my  brother  ! ' 

** '  Never  was  wish  more  appropriate,*  answered  La- 
rouche, *  for  I  believe  the  devil  himself  has  got  into  my 
house,  and  is  kicking  up  his  pranks  there  day  and  night. 
My  wife  scolds  me  to  death  from  morn  till  eve,  my  chil- 
dren sulk  when  they  are  not  doing  worse,  and  all  my 
neighbors  are  set  against  me.* 

"  *  I  am  very  sorry  to  hear  it,'  said  the  traveler,  *  but 
what  are  you  carrying  in  that  little  parcel  ? ' 

"  *  My  tithes,'  answered  Larouche,  with  an  air  of 
chagrin. 


94 


THE   CAXADIANS  OF  OLD. 


*'  *  It  seems  to  me,  however,'  said  the  stranger,  *  that 
you  have  been  having  just  the  weather  you  asked  for/ 

"  *  I  acknowledge  it,'  said  Davy.  'When  I  asked  for 
sunshine,  I  had  it ;  when  I  wanted  rain,  wind,  calm 
weather,  I  got  them  ;  yet  nothing  has  succeeded  with 
me.  The  sun  burned  up  the  grain,  the  rain  caused  it  to 
rot,  the  wind  beat  it  down,  the  calm  brought  the  night 
frosts.  My  neighbors  are  all  bitter  against  me  ;  they  re- 
gard me  as  a  sorcerer,  who  has  brought  a  curse  on  their 
harvests.  My  wife  began  by  distrusting  me,  and  has 
ended  by  heaping  me  with  reproaches.  In  a  word,  it  is 
enough  to  drive  one  crazy.' 

"  *  Which  proves  to  you,  my  brother,*  said  the  trav- 
eler, '  that  your  wish  was  a  foolish  one ;  that  one  must 
always  trust  to  the  providence  of  God,  who  knows  what 
is  good  for  man  better  than  man  can  know  it  for  himself. 
Put  your  trust  in  him,  and  you  will  not  have  to  endure 
the  humiliation  of  having  to  carry  your  tithes  in  a  hand- 
kerchief.' 

"  With  these  v/ords,  the  stranger  again  disappeared 
around  the  hill. 

"  Larouche  took  the  hint,  and  thenceforth  acknowl- 
edged God's  providence,  without  wishing  to  meddle 
with  the  weather." 

As  Jos^  brought  his  tale  to  an  end,  Archie  said  :  "  I 
like  exceedingly  the  simplicity  of  this  legend.  It  has  a 
lofty  moral,  and  at  the  same  time  it  displays  the  vivid 
faith  of  the  habitants  of  New  France.  Shame  on  the 
heartless  philosopher  who  would  deprive  them  of  that 
whence  they  derive  so  many  a  consolation  in  the  trials 
of  life ! 

"  It  must  be  confessed,"  continued  Archie  later, 
when  they  were  dt  a  little  distance  from  the  sleigh,  "that 
our  friend  Jos^  has  always  an  appropriate  story  ready ; 
but  do  you  believe  that  his  father  really  told  him  that 


A    SUPPER, 


95 


r,  '  that 
I  for.' 
ked  for 
I,  calm 
;d  with 
ed  it  to 
e  night 
hey  re- 
)n  their 
nd  has 
d,  it  is 

e  trav- 
e  must 
^s  what 
limself. 
endure 
I  hand- 

peared 


:nowl- 

s 

leddle 

1 

1:  *'I 

§ 

has  a 

M 

vivid 

s 

n  the 

m 

f  that 

B 

trials 

m 

later, 

m 

"that 

jady ; 

that 

marvelous  dream  that  was  dreamed  on  the  hillsides  of 
St.  Michel  ?  " 

'*  I  perceive,"  said  Jules,  "  that  you  do  not  yet  know 
Josh's  talents  ;  he  is  an  inexhaustible  raconietir.  The 
neighbors  gather  in  our  kitchen  on  the  long  winter  even- 
ings, and  Jos^  spins  them  a  story  which  often  goes  on 
for  weeks.  When  he  feels  his  imagination  beginning  to 
flag  he  breaks  off,  and  says  :  '  I'm  getting  tired  ;  I'll  tell 
you  the  rest  another  day.* 

"  Jos^  is  also  a  much  more  highly  esteemed  poet  than 
my  learned  uncle  the  chevalier,  who  prides  himself  on 
his  skill  in  verse.  He  never  fails  to  sacrifice  to  the 
Muses  either  on  flesh  days  or  on  New  Year's  Day.  If 
you  were  at  my  father's  house  at  such  times,  you  would 
see  messengers  arrive  from  all  parts  of  the  parish  in 
quest  of  Jose's  compositions." 

"  But  he  does  not  know  how  to  write,"  said  Archie. 

"No  more  do  his  audience  know  how  to  read,"  re- 
plied Jules.  "  This  is  how  they  work  it.  They  send 
to  the  poet  a  good  chanter  (chanteux)^  as  they  call 
him,  who  has  a  prodigious  memory  ;  and,  presto !  inside 
of  half  an  hour  said  chanter  has  the  whole  poem  in 
his  head.  For  any  sorrowful  occasion  Jos^  is  asked  to 
compose  a  lament ;  and  if  it  be  an  occasion  of  mirth  he 
is  certain  to  be  in  demand.  That  reminds  me  of  what 
happened  to  a  poor  devil  of  a  lover  who  had  taken  his 
sweetheart  to  a  ball  without  being  invited.  Although 
unexpected,  they  were  received  with  politeness,  but  the 
young  man  was  so  awkward  as  to  trip  the  daughter  of 
the  house  while  dancing,  which  raised  a  shout  of  laugh- 
ter from  all  the  company.  The  young  girl's  father,  be- 
ing a  rough  fellow  and  very  angry  at  the  accident,  took 
poor  Jos^  Blais  by  the  shoulders  and  put  him  out  of 
the  house.  Then  he  made  all  manner  of  excuses  to  the 
poor  gill  whose  lover  had  been  so  unceremoniously  dis- 


96 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


missed,  and  would  not  permit  her  to  leave.  On  hearing 
of  this,  our  friend  Jos^  yonder  was  seized  with  an  inspira- 
tion, and  improvised  the  following  naive  bit  of  verse : 

"  A  party  after  vespers  at  the  house  of  old  Boule  ; 
But  the  lads  that  couldn't  dance  were  asked  to  stay  away : 
Mon  ton  ton  de  ritaine,  mon  ton  ton  de  rite. 

"  The  lads  that  couldn't  dance  were  asked  to  stay  away, 
But  his  heart  was  set  on  going,  was  the  heart  of  Jose  Blai : 
Mon  ton  ton,  etc. 

His  heart  was  set  on  going,  was  the  heart  of  Jos6  Blai. 
*  Get  done  your  chores,'  said  his  mistress,  '  and  I  will  not  say  you 
nay' : 

Mon  t^  ton,  etc. 

"  *  Get  done  your  chores,'  said  his  mistress,  *  and  I  will  not  say  you 
nay ' : 
So  he  hurried  out  to  the  barn  to  give  the  cows  their  hay : 
Mon  ton  ton,  etc. 

"He  hurried  out  to  the  barn  to  give  the  cows  their  hay. 
He  rapped  Rougett'  on  the  nose,  and  on  the  ribs  Barre : 
Mon  ton  ton,  etc. 

"  He  rapped  Rougett'  on  the  nose,  and  on  the  ribs  Barr^, 
And  then  rubbed  down  the  horses  in  the  quickest  kind  of  way : 
Mon  ton  ton,  etc. 

"  He  rubbed  down  the  horses  in  the  quickest  kind  of  way ; 
Then  dressed  him  in  his  vest  of  red  and  coat  of  blue  and  gray  : 
Mon  ton  ton,  etc. 

*•  He  dressed  him  in  his  vest  of  red  and  coat  of  blue  and  gray, 
And  black  cravat,  and  shoes  for  which  he  had  to  pay  : 
Mon  ton  ton,  etc. 

**  His  black  cravat,  and  shoes  for  which  he  had  to  pay  ; 
And  he  took  his  dear  Lizett',  so  proud  of  his  display  : 
Mon  ton  ton,  etc. 

"  He  took  his  dear  Lizett',  so  proud  of  his  display ; 
But  they  kicked  him  out  to  learn  to  dance,  and  call  another  day : 
Men  ton  ton,  etc.  , 


A   SUPPER. 


97 


I  hearing 
\  inspira- 
verse : 


ai : 


ot  say  you 


ot  say  you 


way: 

gray: 
■ay, 


vc  day ; 


''  They  kicked  him  out  to  learn  to  dance,  and  call  another  day  ; 
But  they  kept  his  dear  Lizett',  his  pretty  Jianc^e : 
Mon  ton  ton  de  ritaine,  mon  ton  ton  de  rite." 

"  Why,  it  is  a  charming  little  idyl !  "  cried  Archie, 
laughing.  "  What  a  pity  Jos^  had  not  an  education ! 
Canada  would  possess  one  poet  the  more." 

"  But  to  return  to  the  experiences  of  his  late  father," 
said  Jules,  "  I  believe  that  the  old  drunkard,  after  hav- 
ing dared  La  Corriveau  (a  thing  which  the  habitants  con- 
sider very  foolhardy,  as  the  dead  are  sure  to  avenge  them- 
selves, sooner  or  later) — I  believe  the  old  drunkard  fell 
asleep  in  the  ditch  just  opposite  Isle  d'Orleans,  where 
the  habitants  traveling  by  night  always  think  they  see 
witches  ;  I  believe  also  that  he  suffered  a  terrible  night- 
mare, during  which  he  thought  himself  attacked  by  the 
goblins  of  the  island  on  the  one  hand  and  by  La  Corri- 
veau on  the  other.  Jose's  vivid  imagination  has  sup- 
plied the  rest,  for  you  see  how  he  turns  everything  to 
account — the  pictures  in  your  natural  history,  for  in- 
stance, and  the  Cyclopes  in  my  uncle's  illustrated  Vir- 
gil, of  which  his  dear  late  father  had  doubtless  never 
heard  a  word.  Poor  Jos6 !  How  sorry  I  am  for  the 
way  I  abused  him  the  other  day.  I  knew  nothing  of  it 
until  the  day  following,  for  I  had  entirely  lost  my  senses 
on  seeing  you  disappear  in  the  flood.  I  begged  his  par- 
don very  humbly,  and  he  answered  :  *  W^hat !  are  you 
still  thinking  about  tha.t  trifle  ?  Why,  I  look  back  upon 
it  with  pleasure  now  all  the  racket  is  over.  It  made  me 
even  feel  young  again,  reminding  me  of  your  furies  when 
you  were  a  youngster — when  you  would  scratch  and  bite 
like  a  little  wild  cat,  and  wher  I  would  carry  you  off  in 
my  arms  to  save  you  from  the  punishment  of  your  par- 
ents. How  you  used  to  cry!  And  then,  when  your 
anger  was  over,  you  would  bring  me  your  playthings  to 
console  me." 

7  V   ,; 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


"Faithful  Jos^  !  what  unswerving  attachment  to  our 
family  throu^^fh  every  trial !  Men  with  hearts  as  dry  as 
tinder  often  look  with  scorn  on  such  people  as  Jose, 
though  possessed  of  none  of  their  virtues.  A  noble 
heart  is  the  best  gift  of  God  to  man." 

As  our  travelers  drew  near  the  manor  house  of  St. 
Jean-Port- Joli,  whose  roof  they  could  see  under  the 
starlight,  the  conversation  of  Jules  d'Haberville,  ordi- 
narily so  frivolous  and  mocking,  grew  more  and  more 
thoughtful  and  sincere. 


:f 


m 


t  to  our 
s  dry  as 
as  Jose, 
\  noble 


e  of  St. 
ider  the 
le,  ordi- 
id  more 


CHAPTER  VII. 
d'haberville  manor  house. 

Je  benis  le  soleil,  je  benis  la  lune  et  les  astres  qui  etoilent  le  ciel.    Je 
benis  axissi  les  petits  oiseaux  qui  gazouillent  dans  I'air. 

Henri  Heine. 

D'HABERVILLE  Manor  House  was  situated  at  the 
foot  of  a  bluff  which  covered  about  nine  acres  of  the 
seigniory,  on  the  south  side  of  the  highway.  This  blufif 
was  about  a  hundred  feet  high  and  very  picturesque. 
Its  summit  was  clothed  with  pines  and  firs,  whose  per- 
petual green  formed  a  cheerful  contrast  with  the  deso- 
lation of  the  winter  landscape.  Jules  d'Haberville  used 
to  compare  these  trees,  triumphing  on  their  height  and 
flaunting  their  fadeless  green  in  the  face  of  the  harshest 
seasons,  to  the  mighty  ones  of  the  earth  whose  strength 
and  happiness  are  beyond  the  reach  of  vicissitude,  how- 
ever much  the  poor  may  shiver  at  their  feet. 

One  might  well  believe  that  the  brush  of  a  Claude 
Lorraine  had  exercised  itself  in  adorning  the  flanks  and 
base  of  this  hill,  so  endless  was  the  variety  of  the  trees 
which  had  gathered  thither  from  all  the  neighboring 
woodlands.  Elm,  maple,  birch,  and  beech,  red  thorn, 
cherry,  ash,  and  cedar,  sumach,  and  all  the  other  native 
trees  which  are  the  glory  of  our  forests,  combined  to 
throw  a  cloak  of  all  imaginable  greens  over  the  rugged 
outlines  of  the  bluff. 

A  wood  of  ancient  maples  covered  the  space  between 


I  " 


lOO 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


a 


M 


the  foot  of  the  bluff  and  the  highway,  which  was  bor- 
dered with  hedges  of  hazel  and  cinnamon  rose. 

The  first  object  to  attract  the  eye  on  approaching 
the  manor  house  was  a  brook,  which,  falling  through  the 
trees  in  a  succession  of  foamy  cascades  down  the  south- 
west slope  of  the  hill,  mingled  its  clear  current  with  that 
of  a  fountain  which  burst  forth  some  distance  below. 
After  winding  and  loitering  through  a  breadth  of 
meadow  country,  the  wedded  streams  slipped  reluc- 
tantly into  the  St.  Lawrence. 

The  spring,  bubbling  from  the  very  heart  of  the  hill 
into  a  basin  cut  from  the  living  rock,  preserves  its  icy 
coolness,  its  crystal  purity,  through  the  fiercest  heats  of 
summer.  It  was  inclosed  in  those  days  in  a  little  white- 
washed pavilion,  thick  shaded  by  a  group  of  ancient 
trees.  The  seats  arranged  within  and  without  this  cool 
retreat,  the  cone-shaped  drinking-cups  of  birch  bark 
hanging  on  the  wall,  served  as  so  many  invitations  from 
the  nymph  of  the  fount  to  wayfarers  oppressed  by  the 
dog-star.  * 

Fresh  as  of  old,  to  this  day  the  hill-top  keeps  its 
crown  of  emerald,  the  slope  preserves  its  varied  verdure; 
but  of  the  ancient  grove  there  remain  but  five  gnarled 
maples.  These  trees,  decaying  little  by  little  beneath 
the  touch  of  time,  like  the  closing  years  of  the  master 
of  the  domain,  appear  almost  like  a  visible  and  cease- 
less prophecy  that  his  life  will  fade  out  with  that  of  the 
last  veteran  of  the  grove.  When  the  last  log  shall  have 
been  consumed  in  warming  the  old  man's  frozen  limbs, 
its  ashes  will  mingle  with  his  own — a  grim  admonition, 
like  that  of  the  priest  on  Ash  Wednesday  :  "  Memento, 
homo,  quia  pulvis  es,  ut  in  pulverem  reverteris." 

The  manor  house,  situated  between  the  river  St. 
Lawrence  and  the  bluff,  was  divided  from  the  water  only 
by  the  highway,  the  grove,  and  a  spacious  yard.    It  was 


was  bor- 

roaching 
ough  the 
le  south- 
^vith  that 
e  below. 
;adth  of 
d  reluc- 

r  the  hill 
s  its  icy 
heats  of 
le  white- 
ancient 
this  cool 
rch  bark 
ons  from 
I  by  the 

eeps  its 
r^erdure ; 
gnarled 
beneath 
master 
1  cease- 
Lt  of  the 
all  have 
n  limbs, 
onition, 
emento, 

iver  St. 
ter  only 
It  was 


2 

f 


^ 


D'HABERVILLE  MANOR  HOUSE. 


lOI 


#• 


a  one-storied  structure  with  high  gables,  about  a  hun- 
dred feet  long,  with  two  wings  of  fifty  feet.  A  bake- 
house, built  into  the  northeast  corner  of  the  kitchen, 
served  also  the  purpose  of  a  laundry.  A  small  attach- 
ment, adjoining  the  great  drawing-room  on  the  south- 
west, gave  symmetry  to  the  proportions  of  this  piece  of 
early  Canadian  architecture. 

Two  other  small  buildings  at  the  southeast  served, 
the  one  for  a  dairy,  the  other  for  a  second  wash-house. 
This  wash-house  stood  over  a  well,  which  was  connected 
by  a  long  trough  with  the  kitchen  of  the  main  building. 
Coach-houses,  barns,  stables,  five  small  sheds  (three  of 
them  standing  in  the  grove),  a  kitchen  garden  to  the 
southwest  of  the  manor  house,  two  orchards  on  the  north 
and  northeast,  respectively — all  these  went  to  make  up 
the  establishment  of  one  of  the  old  French  Canadian 
seigneurs.  The  habitants  called  the  establishment  "le 
village  d'Haberville." 

Sitting  on  the  crest  o*"  the  bluff,  it  mattered  little  in 
what  direction  one  allowed  his  gaze  to  wander.  Imme- 
diately below  the  little  village,  dazzingly  white,  appeared 
to  spring  from  the  green  bosom  of  the  meadows.  On 
all  sides  a  panorama  of  splendid  magnificence  unrolled 
itself.  There  was  the  sovereign  of  streams,  already  seven 
leagues  in  width,  confined  on  the  north  by  the  ancient 
barrier  of  Lauren tians,  whose  feet  it  washes,  and  whose 
peopled  slopes  are  in  view  from  Cape  Tourmente  to  Mal- 
baie ;  yonder,  to  the  west,  lie  aux  Oies  and  He  aux 
Grues  j  right  in  front,  the  Piliers  Islands,  one  of  which 
is  as  arid  as  the  ^aean  rock  of  Circe,  the  other  always 
green,  like  the  Ogygian  paradise  of  Calypso  ;  northward, 
the  reefs  and  shoals  of  the  Loups-Marins,  so  dear  to 
Canadian  hunters  ;  and,  lastly,  the  hamlets  of  ITslet  and 
St.  Jean- Port- Joli,  crowned  with  their  gleaming  spires. 

It  was  nearly  nine  in  the  evening  when  the  young 


102 


THE   CANADIANS  OF  OLD, 


t 


men  arrived  on  the  slope  overlooking  the  manor.  At 
the  first  glimpse  of  the  scene  which  recalled  the  hap- 
piest days  of  his  existence,  Jules  paused  and  exclaimed: 

"  Never  have  I  approached  this  home  of  my  ances- 
tors without  being  deeply  impressed.  Let  them  boast 
as  they  will  the  scenes  of  beauty  or  sublimity  which 
abound  in  our  fair  Canada,  among  them  all  there  is  but 
one  for  me,  this  spot  where  I  was  born,  where  I  passed 
my  childhood  under  such  tender  cherishing !  I  used  to 
think  the  days  too  short  for  my  childish  sports.  I  rose 
at  dawn,  I  dressed  in  haste,  my  thirst  for  my  enjoyments 
was  feverish  and  unfailing. 

"  I  love  everything  about  us.  I  love  the  moon  which 
you  see  climbing  over  the  wooded  crest  of  the  bluff;  no- 
where else  does  she  appear  to  me  so  beautiful.  I  love 
yonder  brook  which  used  to  turn  my  little  water  mills. 
I  love  the  fountain  which  refreshed  me  in  the  August 
heats. 

'*  Yonder  my  mother  used  to  sit,"  continued  Jules, 
pointing  out  a  mossy  rock  in  the  shadow  of  two  great 
beeches.  "  Thither  I  used  to  bring  her  in  my  little  sil- 
ver cup  the  ice-cool  water  from  the  spring.  Ah  !  how 
often  this  tender  mother,  watching  by  my  pillow,  or 
awakened  suddenly  by  my  cries,  brought  me  that  same 
cup  filled  with  sweet  milk  !  And  to  think  that  I  must 
leave  all  this — perhaps  forever  !     O  mother,  mother  !  " 

Jules  burst  into  tears. 

Lochiel,  much  moved,  grasped  his  friend's  hand  and 
answered : 

"  You  will  come  back  again,  my  brother.  You  will 
come  back,  bringing  glory  and  good  fortune  to  your 
family." 

'*  Thank  you,  dear  old  boy,"  said  Jules,  "  but  let  us 
hurry  on.  The  greetings  of  my  parents  will  soon  scatter 
this  little  cloud." 


nor.  At 
the  hap- 
xlaimed: 
ly  ances- 
2m  boast 
ty  which 
re  is  but 
I  passed 
[  used  to 
I  rose 
joyments 

on  which 
luff;  no- 
I  love 
:er  mills. 
!  August 

d  Jules, 
ivo  great 
ittle  sil- 
h  !  how 
How,  or 
at  same 
I  must 
her ! " 

md  and 

ou  will 
to  your 

:  let  us 
scatter 


D'HABERVILLE  MANOR  HOUSE. 


103 


I 


Archie,  who  had  never  before  visited  the  country  in 
spring-time,  wished  to  know  the  meaning  of  those  white 
objects  which  he  saw  at  the  dusky  foot  of  every  maple. 

"  Those  are  the  three-cornered  spouts,"  said  Jules, 
"which  catch  the  sap  for  making  sugar.  The  sugar- 
maker  cuts  a  notch  in  the  tree  and  right  beneath  it  he 
drives  in  one  of  these  affairs." 

"One  might  almost  say,"  replied  Archie,  "that  these 
trees  were  vast  water-pipes,  with  their  funnels  ready  to 
supply  a  crowded  city." 

He  was  interrupted  by  the  barking  of  a  great  dog, 
which  came  running  to  meet  them. 

"  Niger  !  Niger  !  "  shouted  Jules.  At  the  sound  of 
the  well-loved  voice  the  dog  paused,  then  ran  up  and 
snuffed  at  his  master  to  assure  himself  of  his  identity. 
He  returned  Jules's  caresses  with  a  howling  half  joyous, 
half  plaintive,  which  expressed  his  love  as  well  as  words 
could  have  done. 

"  Ah,  poor  Niger,"  said  Jules,  "  I  understand  your 
language  perfectly.  It  is  half  a  reproach  to  me  for  hav- 
ing stayed  away  from  you  so  long,  and  it  is  half  delight 
at  seeing  me  again,  with  forgiveness  of  my  neglect.  Poor 
Niger,  when  I  come  again  after  my  long,  long  journey, 
you  will  not  even  have  the  happiness  that  was  granted 
to  the  faithful  hound  of  Ulysses,  of  dying  at  your  mas- 
ter's feet." 

The  reader  is  doubtless  ready  by  this  time  to  make 
the  acquaintance  of  the  D'Haberville  family.  Let  me 
introduce  them  according  to  their  rank  in  the  domestic 
hierarchy  : 

The  Seigneur  d'Haberville  was  scarcely  forty-five 
years  old,  but  the  toils  of  war  had  so  told  on  his  consti- 
tution that  he  looked  a  good  ten  years  older.  His  duties 
as  captain  in  the  Colonial  Marine  kept  him  constantly 
under  arms.     The  ceaseless  forest  warfare,  with  no  shel- 


104 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD, 


\% 


•l 


ter,  according  to  the  stern  Canadian  custom,  except  the 
vault  of  heaven,  the  expeditions  of  reconnoissanre  or 
surprise  against  the  Iroquois  or  against  the  English  set- 
tlements, carried  on  during  tlie  severest  weather,  pro- 
duced their  speedy  t  ffec^  on  the  strongest  frames. 

Captain  d'Haberville  might  fairly  have  been  called 
handsome.  A  little  below  the  medium  height,  his  regu- 
lar features,  his  \ivid  complexion,  his  great  black  eyes 
which  softened  at  will  but  whose  intensity  when  aroused 
few  men  could  face,  the  simple  elegance  of  his  manners, 
all  combined  to  give  him  an  air  of  extreme  distinction. 
A  severe  critic  might  perhaps  have  found  fault  with  the 
great  length  and  thickness  of  his  black  eyebrows. 

As  to  character,  the  Seigneur  d'Haberville  was  pos- 
sessed of  all  those  qualities  which  distinguished  the  early 
Canadians  of  noble  birth.  It  is  true,  on  the  other  hand, 
that  he  might  fairly  have  been  charged  with  vindictive- 
ness.  An  injury,  real  or  supposed,  he  found  it  hard  to 
forgive. 

Madame  d'Haberville,  a  devout  and  gentle  woman 
of  thirty-six,  was  endowed  with  that  mature  beauty 
which  men  often  prefer  to  the  freshness  of  youth. 
Blonde  and  of  medium  lieight,  her  countenance  was  of 
an  angelic  sweetness.  Her  sole  object  seemed  to  be  the 
happiness  of  those  about  her.  The  habitants^  in  their 
simple  way,  used  to  call  her  "  the  perfect  lady." 

Mademoiselle  Blanche  d'Haberville,  younger  than 
her  1  Mother  Jules,  was  the  image  of  her  mother,  but  of  a 
somewhat  graver  temperament.  Wise  beyond  her  years, 
she  had  a  great  influence  over  her  brother,  whose  out- 
bursts she  often  checked  with  one  imploring  glance. 
While  apparently  absorbed  in  her  own  thoughts,  the  girl 
was  capable,  on  occasion,  of  acting  with  energy  and 
effect. 

Madame  Louise  de  Beaumont,  younger   sister  of 


M 


D'HABERVILLE  MANOR  HOUSE. 


105 


ept  the 
ance  or 
!ish  sel- 
ler, pro- 
s. 

1  called 
is  regu- 
ck  eyes 
aroused 
lanners, 
inction. 
kvith  the 
I. 

vas  pos- 
he  early 
?r  hand, 
idictive- 
hard  10 

woman 
beauty 
youth, 
was  of 
be  the 
in  their 

IX  than 
3ut  of  a 
r  years, 
)se  out- 
glance, 
the  girl 
gy  and 

ster  of 


#1 


Madame  d*Haberville,  had  lived  with  her  ever  since  her 
marriage.  Though  rich  and  independent,  she  was  alto- 
gether devoted  to  her  sister's  family.  Sharing  their  hap- 
piness, she  was  equally  ready  to  share,  should  need 
arise,  the  utmost  that  adversity  could  bring  upon  them. 

Lieutenant  Raoul  d'Haberville,  or  rather  the  Cheva- 
lier d'Haberville,  whom  everybody  called  Uncle  Raoul, 
was  a  younger  brother  of  the  captain  by  two  years.  He 
looked  fully  ten  years  his  senior.  A  little  man  was  Uncle 
Raoul,  almost  as  broad  as  he  was  long,  and  walking  with 
the  assistance  of  a  stick  ;  he  would  have  been  remarka- 
bly ugly  even  if  the  small-pox  could  have  been  induced 
to  spare  his  countenance.  It  is  hard  to  say  how  he  came 
by  his  nickname.  One  may  say  of  a  man,  he  has  a  pa- 
ternal air,  he  is  un  petit  p^ re  ;  but  one  accuses  nobody  of 
having  an  avuncular  appearance.  For  all  that,  Lieuten- 
ant d'Haberville  was  everybody's  uncle.  Even  his 
soldiers,  unknown  to  him,  used  to  call  him  Uncle  Raoul. 
In  like  manner,  to  compare  great  things  with  small,  Na- 
poleon was  to  the  grumblers  merely  "  the  little  cor- 
poral." 

Uncle  Raoul  was  the  litterateur  of  the  D'Haberville 
family,  and,  therefore,  something  of  a  pedant,  like  al- 
most all  men  who  live  in  daily  contact  with  people  less 
learned  than  themselves.  Uncle  Raoul  was  the  best 
fellow  in  the  world  when  he  had  his  own  way ;  but  he 
had  one  little  defect.  He  held  the  profound  conviction 
that  he  was  always  right,  which  made  him  very  bad  tem- 
pered with  any  who  might  dare  to  differ  with  him. 

Uncle  Raoul  prided  himself  on  his  knowledge  of 
Latin,  fragments  of  which  language  he  was  wont  to 
launch  freely  at  the  heads  of  cultured  and  ignorant 
alike.  Endless  were  his  discussions  with  the  cur^  over 
some  line  of  Horace,  Ovid,  or  Virgil,  who  were  his  fa- 
vorite authors.    The  cur^,  v/ho  was  of  a  mild  and  peace- 


io6 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


able  humor,  almost  alwa>.'  grew  weary  of  the  contest 
and  gave  way  before  his  iiery  opponent.  But  Uncle 
Raoul  also  prided  himself  on  being  a  profound  theo- 
logian, which  was  the  cause  of  much  embarrassment  to 
the  poor  cur6.  The  latter  was  deeply  concerned  for  the 
soul  of  his  friend,  who  had  been  in  his  youth  a  rather 
risky  subject,  and  whom  he  had  had  great  difficulty  in 
leading  into  better  courses.  He  found  it  necessary, 
however,  sometimes  to  give  way  on  points  not  absolutely 
essential  to  the  safety  of  Uncle  Raoul's  soul.  When 
points  were  attacked  which  he  durst  not  yield  he  was 
wont  to  call  in  the  aid  of  Blanche,  whom  her  uncle  idol- 
ized. 

"  Dear  uncle,"  she  would  say  to  him  with  a  caress, 
"  are  you  not  already  learned  enough  without  encroach- 
ing on  the  field  of  our  good  pastor  ?  You  are  victorious 
on  all  the  other  points  under  discussion,"  she  would  add, 
with  a  sly  glance  at  the  cur6 ;  "  be  generous,  then,  and 
suffer  yourself  to  be  convinced  on  those  points  which  are 
the  especial  province  of  God's  ministers." 

Thereupon,  as  Uncle  Raoul  argued  simply  for  the 
pleasure  of  argument,  a  peace  would  be  concluded  be- 
tween the  disputants. 

.  Uncle  Raoul  was  by  no  means  the  least  important 
personage  at  D'Haberville  manor.  Since  his  retirement 
from  the  army,  the  captain,  whom  military  service  kept 
much  away  from  home,  left  the  management  of  affairs 
entirely  in  his  hands.  His  occupations  were  very  nu- 
merous He  kept  account  of  the  receipts  and  expendi- 
tures of  the  family ;  he  collected  the  rents  of  the  seig- 
niory ;  he  managed  the  farm  ;  he  betook  himself  every 
Sunda- ,  rain  or  shine,  to  mass  to  receive  the  Easter  wa- 
ter in  the  seigneur's  absence  ;  and,  among  other  minor 
duties  which  devolved  upon  him,  he  presented  for  bap- 
tism all  the  first-born  children  of  the  tenants  of   the 


HHABERVILLE  MANOR  HOUSE, 


107 


contest 
t  Uncle 
id  theo- 
ment  to 
i  for  the 
a  rather 
iciilty  in 
jcessary, 
>solutely 
When 

he  was 
cle  idol- 

.  caress, 
icroach- 
ctorious 
iild  add, 
len,  and 
tiich  are 

for  the 
ed  be- 

Dortant 
irement 
ce  kept 

affairs 
ery  nu- 
cpendi- 
le  seig- 

every 
ter  wa- 

minor 
5r  bap- 
of   the 


estate — an  honor  which  belonged  to  his  elder  brother, 
but  of  which  the  latter  had  freed  himself  in  favor  of 
Raoul. 

A  little  incident  n\ay  be  cited  to  show  Uncle  R'aoul's 
importance.  Let  us  imagine  ourselves  in  the  month  of 
November,  when  the  seigneurial  rents  fall  due.  Uncle 
Raoul,  with  a  long  quill  pen  behind  his  ear,  sits  in  a 
great  armchair  as  on  a  throne.  Beside  him  is  a  table 
covered  with  green  cloth,  and  on  this  table  rests  his 
sword.  As  the  tenant  appears,  he  assumes  an  expression 
of  severity,  which  does  not  greatly  alarm  the  debtor,  for 
the  Seigneur  d'Haberville  is  an  indulgent  landlord,  and 
his  tenants  pay  when  they  please. 

But  Uncle  Raoul  is  more  deeply  concerned  for  the 
form  than  for  the  substance ;  the  appearance  of  power 
pleases  him  even  as  power  itself.  He  will  have  every- 
thing done  with  due  ceremony. 

"How  do  you  do,  my — my — lieutenant?"  says  the 
censitairey  accustomed  to  call  him  uncle  behind  his 
back. 

"  Very  well.  And  thyself  ?  What  wilt  thou  ?  "  re- 
plies Uncle  Raoul,  with  an  air  of  great  importance. 

"  I  have  come  to  pay  the  rent,  my — my  lieutenant ; 
but  the  times  are  so  hard  that  I  have  no  money,"  says 
Jean  Baptiste,  ducking  his  head  penitently. 

"  Nescio  vos  !  "  exclaims  Uncle  Raoul  in  a  sonorous 
voice  ;  "  reddite  quce  sunt  Ccesaris  CcBsari.** 

"  That's  fine  what  you  say,  my— my  captain,  so  fine 
that  I  can't  understand  it  at  all,"  murmurs  the  censi- 
taire. 

"  It's  Latin,  blockhead  !  "  exclaims  Uncle  Raoul, "  and 
this  Latin  means,  pay  your  lawf-  '  rents  to  the  Seigneur 
d'Haberville,  on  pain  of  being  taken  before  the  King's 
courts  and  of  being  condemned  in  first  and  second  in- 
stance t^  pay  all  expense,  damages,  claims,  and  costs. 


tdiuiiMitdm 


4 


108 


TNE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD, 


*  It  would  go  hard  with  me,"  murmurs  the  censitaire. 

*'  Heavens,  you  may  well  say  so  !  "  exclaims  Uncle 
Raoul,  raising  his  eyes  to  the  ceiling. 

'*I  know  very  well  my— my  seigneur,  that  your 
Latin  threatens  me  with  all  these  punishments ;  but  I 
had  the  misfortune  to  lose  my  filly  of  last  spring." 

"  What,  you  rascal !  On  account  of  having  lost  a 
wretched  brute  of  six  months  old  you  wish  to  evade  the 
seigneurial  claims,  which  have  been  established  by  your 
sovereign  on  a  foundation  as  enduring  as  yonder  mount- 
ains.    Quos  ego  .  .  .  / " 

"I  believe,"  murmurs  the  habitant  to  himself,  "that 
he  is  speaking  Indian  to  frighten  me." 

Then  he  adds  aloud  :  "  You  see,  my  filly,  according 
to  what  all  the  best  judges  declared,  would  have  been  in 
four  years'  time  the  best  trotter  on  all  the  south  shore, 
and  worth  a  hundred  francs  if  a  penny." 

**  Oh,  to  the  devil  with  you  !  "  replied  Uncle  Raoul. 
**  Go  and  tell  Lisette  to  give  you  a  good  drink  of  brandy, 
to  console  you  for  the  loss  of  your  filly.  These  scoun- 
drels," adds  Uncle  Raoul,  **  drink  more  of  our  brandy 
than  their  rents  will  ever  pay  for." 

The  habitant y  going  into  the  kitchen,  remarks  to 
Lisette  with  a  chuckle  :  "  I've  had  a  bad  job  with  Uncle 
Raoul ;  he  even  threatened  to  haul  me  up  before  the 
courts.** 

As  Uncle  Raoul  was  very  devout  after  his  fashion, 
he  failed  not  to  tell  his  beads  and  read  his  primer  daily. 
In  singular  contrast  with  this  devotion,  however,  his 
leisure  moments  were  occupied  in  cursing,  with  an  edify- 
ing fervor,  his  enemies  the  English,  who  had  broken  a 
leg  for  him  at  the  capture  of  Louisburg.  It  was  this 
accident  which  had  compelled  him  to  relinquish  the  life 
of  a  soldier. 

When  the  young  men  arrived  before  the  manor- 


UHABERVILLE  MANOR  HOUSE. 


109 


*.nsitaire. 
s  Uncle 

at  your 
5 ;  but  I 

• 

I  lost  a 

^ade  the 

by  your 

mouut- 

f,  "that 

cording 
been  in 
[1  shore, 

;  Raoul. 

brandy, 

scoun- 

brandy 

irks  to 
I  Uncle 
3re  the 

ashion, 
*  daily, 
er,  his 
I  edify- 
3ken  a 
as  this 
;he  life 

nanor- 


house,  they  were  astonished  at  the  sight  that  met  their 
eyes.  Not  only  were  all  the  rooms  lit  up,  but  also  some 
of  the  out-buildings.  There  was  an  unaccustomed  stir, 
a  strange  hurrying  to  and  fro.  As  the  whole  yard  was 
illuminated  by  the  blaze  of  lights,  they  could  distin- 
guish six  men  armed  with  guns  and  axes  and  seated  on 
a  log. 

*'  I  perceive,"  remarked  Archie,  "  that  the  lord  of  the 
manor  has  called  out  his  guard  to  give  us  a  fitting  re- 
ception, just  as  I  predicted." 

Jos^,  who  did  not  understand  this  sort  of  chaffing, 
shifted  his  pipe  from  one  corner  of  his  mouth  to  the 
other,  muttered  something  between  his  teeth,  and  began 
to  smoke  fiercely. 

"  I  can  no*-  tell  why  my  father's  guards,  as  you  do 
them  the  honor  to  call  them,  are  under  arms,"  answered 
Jules,  laughing,  "  unless  it  is  that  they  are  expecting  an 
attack  from  our  friends  the  Iroquois.  But,  come  on, 
we'll  soon  solve  the  problem." 

As  they  entered  the  yard  the  six  men  rose  simulta- 
neously and  came  forward  to  welcome  their  young  mas- 
ter and  his  friend. 

"  What,  you  here  ! "  exclaimed  Jules,  grasping  their 
hands  cordially  ;  "  you,  Father  Chouinard  !  >ou,  Julien  ! 
and  Alexis  Dub^,  and  Father  Tontaine,  and  Franpois 
Maurice,  the  incorrigible  !  Why,  I  thought  the  parish 
would  have  taken  advantage  of  my  absence  to  rise  as 
one  man  and  chuck  you  into  the  St.  Lawrence,  as  a 
proper  punishment  for  the  infernal  tricks  you  play  on 
peaceable  people." 

"  Our  young  seigneur,"  said  Maurice,  **  always  has 
his  joke  ready  ;  but,  if  they  were  to  drown  all  those  who 
put  other  folk  into  a  rage,  I  know  some  one  who  would 
have  got  his  deserts  long  ago." 

"You  think  so!"  said  Jules,  laughing.    "Perhaps 


w 


I 


111 


no 


T//£   CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


that  all  comes  from  the  bad  milk  on  which  I  was  nursed. 
Remember  that  it  was  at  the  breast  of  your  own  dear 
mother  I  was  nourished.  But,  to  change  the  subject, 
what  in  the  mischief  are  you  all  doing  here  at  this  hour  ? 
Are  you  gaping  at  the  stars  and  moon  ?  " 

"  There  are  twelve  of  us,"  said  Father  Chouinard. 
"  We  are  taking  turns  in  guarding  the  May-pole  which 
we  are  going  to  present  to  your  honored  father  to-mor- 
row. Six  are  in  the  house,  having  a  good  time,  while 
we  are  taking  the  first  watch." 

"  I  should  have  thought  that  the  May-pole  might 
safely  have  been  left  to  guard  itself,"  said  Jules.  "  I 
don't  think  there  is  anybody  crazy  enough  to  get  out  of 
his  warm  bed  for  the  pleasure  of  breaking  his  back  in 
dragging  away  this  venerable  timber,  at  least  while  there 
are  May-poles  on  all  sides  to  be  had  for  the  cutting." 

"  You  are  off  there,  young  master,"  answered  Chouin- 
ard. '*  You  see  there  are  always  some  folks  jealous  be- 
cause they  have  not  been  invited  to  the  May-feast.  It 
was  only  last  year  some  scoundrels  who  had  been  in- 
vited to  stay  at  home  had  the  audacity  to  saw  up,  dur- 
ing the  night,  the  May-pole  which  the  folks  of  Ste. 
Anne  were  going  to  present  to  Captain  Besse.  Think 
of  the  poor  peoples'  feelings  when  they  gathered  in  the 
morning  and  saw  that  their  fine  tree  was  nothing  more 
nor  less  than  so  much  firewood  !  " 

Jules  burst  out  laughing  at  a  trick  which  he  could  so 
well  appreciate. 

"  Laugh  as  much  as  you  like,"  said  Father  Tontaine, 
"  but  t'ain't  hardly  Christian  to  put  up  tricks  like  that. 
You  understand,"  he  added  seriously,  "we  don't  think 
no  such  trick  is  going  to  be  played  on  our  good  master ; 
but  there  be  always  some  rascals  everywhere,  so  we're 
taking  our  precautions." 

**  I  am  a  poor  man,"  interposed  Alexis  Dub^,  **  but 


UHABERVILLE  MANOR  HOUSE. 


Ill 


nursed, 
vn  dear 
subject, 
is  hour  ? 

minard. 
e  which 
to-mor- 
e,  while 

;  might 
es.  "  I 
t  out  of 
back  in 
le  there 
ing." 
Dhouin- 
ous  be- 
ist.  It 
een  in- 
p,  dur- 
3f  Ste. 
Think 
in  the 
g  more 

)uld  so 

titaine, 
that, 
think 

aster ; 
we're 

"but 


not  for  all  I  own  would  I  see  such  an  insult  put  on  our 
captain." 

The  others  spoke  to  the  same  effect,  but  Jules  was 
already  in  the  arms  of  his  family,  while  the  worthy 
habitants  went  on  muttering  their  imprecations  against 
the  imaginary,  though  improbable,  wretches  who  would 
have  the  hardihood  to  cut  up  the  good  fir  log  which 
they  were  going  to  present  to  their  seigneur  on  the  mor- 
row. It  may  be  suspected  that  the  liberal  cups  and 
ample  supper  of  May-day  eve,  together  with  the  sure 
anticipation  of  a  toothsome  breakfast,  were  not  without 
their  effect  on  the  zeal  of  the  honest  habitants. 

"  Come,"  said  Jules  to  his  friend  after  suppe^  "  let 
us  go  and  see  the  preparations  for  the  May-day  feast. 
As  neither  of  us  has  had  the  advantage  of  being  pres- 
ent at  those  famous  nuptials  of  the  opulent  Gamache, 
which  so  ravished  the  heart  of  Sancho  Panza,  the  pres- 
ent occasion  may  give  us  some  faint  idea  of  that  enter- 
tainment." 

In  the  kitchen  all  was  bustle  and  confusion.  The 
laughing  shrill  voices  of  the  women  were  mixed  with 
those  of  the  six  men  off  guard,  who  were  occupied  in 
drinking,  smoking,  and  chaffing.  Three  servants,  armed 
each  with  a  frying-pan,  were  making,  or,  to  use  the 
common  expression,  "  turning "  pancakes  over  the  fire 
in  an  ample  fireplace,  whose  flames  threw  ruddy  lights 
and  shadows,  ti  la  Rembrandt,  over  the  merry  faces 
thronging  the  great  kitchen.  Some  of  the  neighbor 
women,  armed  with  dish  and  spoon  and  seated  at  a  long 
table,  kept  dropping  into  the  frying-pans,  as  fast  as  they 
were  emptied,  the  liquid  paste  of  which  the  pancakes 
were  made ;  while  others  sprinkled  them  with  maple 
sugar  as  they  were  piled  upon  the  plates.  A  great  kettle, 
half  full  of  boiling  lard,  received  the  doughnuts  which 
two  cooks  kept  incessantly  dropping  in  and  ladling  out. 


112 


THE   CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


The  faithful  Jos^,  the  right  hand  of  the  estabb'sh- 
ment,  seemed  to  be  everywhere  at  once  on  these  solemn 
occasions. 

Seated  at  the  end  of  a  table,  coat  thrown  off,  sleeves 
of  his  shirt  rolled  up  to  the  elbows,  his  inseparable  knife 
in  hand,  he  was  hacking  fiercely  at  a  great  loaf  of  maple- 
sugar  and  at  the  same  time  urging  on  two  servants  who 
were  engaged  at  the  same  task.  The  next  moment  he 
was  running  for  fine  flour  and  eggs,  as  the  pancake 
paste  got  low  in  the  bowls ;  nor  did  he  forget  to  visit 
the  refreshment  table  from  time  to  time  to  assure  him- 
self that  nothing  was  lacking,  or  to  take  a  drink  with  his 
friends. 

Jules  and  Archie  passed  from  the  kitchen  to  the 
bake-house,  where  the  cooks  were  taking  out  of  the  oven 
a  batch  of  pies,  shaped  like  half-moons  and  about  four- 
teen inches  long  ;  while  quarters  of  veal  and  mutton, 
spare-ribs,  and  cutlets  of  fresh  pork,  ranged  around  in 
pans,  waited  to  take  their  places  in  the  oven.  Their 
last  visit  was  to  the  wash-house  where,  in  a  ten-gallon 
caldron,  bubbled  a  stew  of  pork  and  mutton  for  the  spe- 
cial delectation  of  the  old  folks  whose  jaws  had  grown 
feeble. 

*'  Why  !  "  exclaimed  Archie,  "  it  is  a  veritable'  feast 
of  Sardanapalus — a  feast  to  last  six  months  ! " 

"  But  you  have  only  seen  a  part  of  it,"  said  Jules. 
"The  dessert  is  yet  ahead  of  us.  I  had  imagined,  how- 
ever, that  you  knew  more  about  the  customs  of  our  hab- 
itants. If  at  the  end  of  the  feast  the  table  were  not  as 
well  supplied  as  at  the  beginning,  the  host  would  be  ac- 
cused of  stinginess.  Whenever  a  dish  even  threatens  to 
become  empty,  you  will  see  the  servants  hasten  to  re- 
place it." 

**  I  am  the  more  surprised  at  that,"  said  Archie,  "be- 
cause your  habitants  are  generally  economical,  even  to 


% 


D'lIABERVILLE  MANOR  HOUSE. 


113 


stablish- 
i  solemn 

,  sleeves 
ile  knife 
f  maple- 
ints  who 
ment  he 
pancake 
to  visit 
ire  him- 
with  his 

to  the 
:he  oven 
►ut  four- 
mutton, 
ound  in 
Their 

■gallon 
the  spe- 
i  grown 

e*  feast 

Jules, 
d,  how- 
ur  hab- 

not  as 

be  ac- 
Ltens  to 

to  re- 

j,  "be- 
ven  to 


ti- 


the point  of  mea  mess.  How  do  you  reconcile  this  with 
the  great  waste  which  must  take  place  after  a  feast  ? " 

"Our  habitants^  scattered  wide  apart  over  all  New 
France,  and  consequently  deprived  of  markets  during 
spring,  summer,  and  autumn,  live  then  on  nothing  but 
salt  meat,  bread,  and  milk,  and,  except  in  the  infrequent 
case  of  a  wedding,  they  rarely  give  a  feast  at  either  of 
those  seasons.  In  winter,  on  the  other  hand,  there  is  a 
lavish  abundance  of  fresh  meafs  of  all  kinds ;  there  is  a 
universal  feasting,  and  hos^^itality  is  carried  to  an  ex- 
treme from  Christmas  time  to  Lent ;  there  is  a  perpetual 
interchange  of  visits.  Four  or  five  carrioles^  containing 
a  dozen  people,  drive  up ;  the  horses  are  unhitched,  the 
visitors  take  off  their  wraps,  the  table  is  set,  and  in  an 
hour  or  so  it  is  loaded  down  with  smoking  dishes." 

"  Your  habitants  must  possess  Aladdin's  lamp  !  "  ex- 
claimed Archie. 

*'You  must  understand,"  said  Jules,  'that  if  the 
habitants'  wives  had  to  make  such  preparations  as  are 
necessary  in  higher  circles,  their  hospitality  would  be 
much  restricted  or  even  put  a  stop  to,  for  few  of  them 
are  able  to  keep  a  servant.  As  it  is,  however,  their  so- 
cial diversions  are  little  more  trouble  to  them  than  to 
their  husbands.  Their  method  is  very  simple.  From 
time  to  time,  in  their  leisure  moments,  they  cook  three 
or  four  batches  of  various  kinds  of  meat,  which  in  our 
climate  keeps  without  difficulty;  when  visitors  come,  all 
they  have  to  do  is  to  warm  up  these  dishes  in  their 
ovens,  which  at  this  season  of  the  year  are  kept  hot 
enough  to  roast  an  ox.  The  habitants  abhor  cold  meat. 
It  is  good  to  see  our  Canadian  women,  so  gay  at  all 
times,  making  ready  these  hasty  banquets — to  see  them 
tripping  about,  lilting  a  bit  of  a  song,  or  mixing  in  the 
general  chatter,  and  dancing  backward  and  forward  be- 
tween the   table   and   the   stove.     Josephte  sits  down 


114 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


among  her  guests,  but  jumps  up  to  wait  upon  them 
twenty  times  during  the  meal.  She  keeps  up  her  sing- 
ing and  her  chaffing,  and  makes  everybody  as  merry  as 
herself. 

"  You  will,  doubtless,  imagine  that  these  warmed-up 
dishes  lose  a  good  deal  of  their  flavor ;  but  habit  is  sec- 
ond nature,  and  our  habitants  do  not  find  fault.  More- 
over, as  their  taste  is  more  wholesome  and  natural  than 
ours,  I  imagine  that  these  dinners,  washed  down  with  a 
few  glasses  of  brandy,  leave  them  little  cause  to  envy  us. 
But  we  shall  return  to  this  subject  later  on  ;  let  us  now 
rejoin  my  father  and  mother,  who  are  probably  getting 
impatient  at  our  absence.  I  merely  wanted  to  initiate 
you  a  little  beforehand  in  the  customs  of  our  habitants^ 
whom  you  have  never  before  observed  in  their  winter 
life." 

Everybody  sat  up  late  that  night  at  D'Haberville 
Manor.  There  was  so  much  to  talk  about.  It  was  not 
till  the  small  hours  that  the  good-nights  were  said  ;  and 
soon  the  watchers  of  the  May-pole  were  the  only  ones 
left  awake  in  the  manor  house  of  St.  Jean-Port-Joli. 


!'!?; 


3n  them 
ler  sing- 
tnerry  as 

rmed-up 
it  is  sec- 
More- 
iral  than 
n  with  a 
envy  us. 
t  us  now 
y  getting 
0  initiate 
habitants^ 
lir  winter 

^aberville 
t  was  not 
lid  ;  and 

nly  ones 

Joli. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE   MAY-FEAST. 

Le  premier  jour  de  Mai, 

Labourez, 
J'm'en  fus  planter  un  mai, 

Labourez, 
A  la  porte  d  ma  mie. 

Ancienne  Chanson, 

It  was  scarcely  five  o'clock  in  the  morning  when 
Jules,  who  slept  like  a  cat,  shouted  to  Lochiel  in  the 
next  room  that  it  was  high  time  they  were  up  ;  but  as 

S  the  latter  would  make  no  response,  Jules  took  the  surest 
way  of  arousing  him  by  getting  up  himself.  Arming 
himself  with  a  towel  dipped  in  cold  water,  he  entered 
his  friend's  bedroom  and  squeezed  the  icy  fluid  in  his 
face.  In  spite  of  his  aquatic  inclinations,  Archie  found 
this  attention  very  little  to  his  taste  ;  he  snatched  the 

'  towel,  rolled  it  into  a  ball,  and  hurled  it  at  Jules's  head. 

'  Then  he  turned  over  and  was  preparing  to  go  to  sleep 

again,  when  Jules  snatched  off  all  the  bed-clothes.  It 
looked  as  if  the  fortress,  in  this  extremity,  had  nothing 
to  do  but  surrender  at  discretion ;  but  the  garrison,  in 
the  person  of  Lochiel,  was  more  numerous  than  the  be- 
sieging force  in  the  person  of  Jules,  and,  shaking  the 
latter  fiercely,  he  asked  if  sleeping  was  forbidden  at 
D'Haberville  Manor.  He  was  even  proceeding  to  hurl 
the  besieger  from  the  ramparts  when  Jules,  struggling 
in  his  adversary's  mighty  arms,  begged  him  to  listen  a 


no 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


\\    \ 


m 


moment  before  inflicting  such  a  disgrace  upon  a  future 
soldier  of  France. 

**  What  have  you  to  say  for  yourself,  you  wretched 
boy?"  exclaimed  Archie,  now  thoroughly  awake.  Is  it 
not  enough  for  you  that  all  day  long  you  give  me  no 
peace,  but  even  in  the  night  you  must  come  and  torment 
me?" 

"  I  am  grieved,  indeed,"  said  Jules,  "  at  having  inter- 
rupted your  slumbers  ;  but  as  our  folk  have  to  set  up 
another  May-pole  at  the  place  of  B^langer  of  the  Cross, 
a  good  mile  and  a  half  from  here,  they  intend  to  pre- 
sent my  father  with  his  at  six  o'clock ;  and  if  you  don't 
want  to  lose  any  of  the  ceremony  it  is  time  for  you  to 
dress.  I  declare,  I  thought  everybody  was  like  myself, 
wrapped  up  in  everything  that  can  bring  us  more  in  touch 
with  our  habitants.  I  do  not  know  anything  that  moves 
me  more  than  this  sympathy  between  my  father  and  his 
tenants,  between  our  fam.ily  and  these  brave  lads  ;  more- 
over, as  my  adopted  brother,  you  will  have  your  part  to 
play  in  the  approaching  spectacle." 

As  soon  as  the  young  men  had  finished  dressing, 
they  passed  from  their  room  to  one  which  looked  out  on 
the  yard,  where  a  lively  scene  met  their  view.  There 
were  at  least  a  hundred  habitants  scattered  about  in 
groups.  With  their  long  guns,  their  powder-horns  sus- 
pended from  the  neck,  their  tomahawks  otuck  in  the  gir- 
dle, their  inseparable  axes,  they  looked  less  like  peaceful 
tillers  of  the  soil  than  a  band  of  desperadoes  ready  for 
a  foray. 

Lochiel  was  much  amused  by  the  spectacle,  and 
wished  to  go  out  and  join  the  groups,  but  Jules  vetoed 
his  proposal,  saying  that  it  would  be  contrary  to  etiquette. 
He  explained  that  the  family  were  all  supposed  to  be 
unaware  of  what  was  going  on  outside,  no  matter  how 
great  the  noise  and  excitement.     Some  were  decorating 


f 


THE  MAY-FEAST. 


117 


a  future 

rretched 

J.     Is  it 

me  no 

torment 

ig  inter- 
)  set  up 
le  Cross, 
i  to  pre- 
Du  don't 
r  you  to 
;  myself, 
in  touch 
It  moves 
and  his 
5 ;  more- 
r  part  to 

iressing, 
i  out  on 
There 
bout  in 
Drns  sus- 
the  gir- 
pe^ceful 
eady  for 

cle,  and 
5  vetoed 
tiquette. 
d  to  be 
ter  how 
corating 


i/i 


s 


the  May-pole,  others  were  digging  the  hole  in  which  it 
was  to  be  planted,  while  yet  others  were  sharpening  long 
stakes  to  be  used  in  bracing  it  firmly  As  for  the  May- 
pole itself,  it  was  of  the  utmost  simplicity.  It  consisted 
of  a  tall  fir  tree,  with  its  branches  cut  off  and  peeled  to 
within  two  or  three  feet  of  the  top.  Here  a  tuft  of 
greenery,  about  three  feet  long,  was  permitted  to  remain^ 
and  dignified  with  the  title  of  "the  bouquet."  This 
"bouquet "was  ornamental  enough  so  long  as  it  kept 
green,  but  when  withered  by  the  heat  of  summer  its 
appearance  became  anything  but  cheerful.  A  rod  six 
feet  long,  painted  red,  surmounted  with  a  green  weather 
cock  and  adorned  with  a  large  red  ball,  was  thrust  be- 
tween the  branches  of  *'  the  bouquet  "  and  nailed  to  the 
tree,  which  completed  the  decoration  of  the  May-pole. 
It  is  necessary  to  add  that  strong  wooden  pegs,  driven 
into  the  trunk  at  regular  intervals,  facilitated  the  climbing 
of  the  May-pole,  and  served  also  as  points  of  support 
for  the  props  by  aid  of  which  it  was  raised  into  position. 
The  firing  of  a  gun  before  the  main  entrance  an- 
iiounced  that  every  thing  was  ready.  Immediately  on 
this  signal  the  seigneur  and  his  family  gathered  in  the 
drawing-room  to  receive  the  deputation  which  would 
follow  immediately  after  the  report.  The  seigneur  oc- 
cupied a  g/eat  arm-chair^  with  Lady  d'Haberville  seated 
at  his  right  and  his  son  Jules  at  his  left  Uncle  Raoul, 
erect  and  leaning  upon  his  sword,  stood  immediately  be- 
hind this  first  group,  between  Blanche  and  Madame  de 
Beaumont  who  were  seated  Archie  stood  at  Blanche's 
left.  They  were  scarcely  in  position  when  two  old  men, 
introduced  by  Jos^,  the  major-domo,  approached  Seign- 
eur d'Haberville,  saluted  him  with  that  courteous  air 
which  was  natural  to  the  early  Canadians  and  begged 
his  permission  to  plant  a  May-pole  before  his  threshold. 
This  permission  granted,  the  deputation  withdrew  and 


Ii8 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


acquainted  the  crowd  with  their  success.  Everybody 
then  knelt  down  and  prayed  for  protection  throughout 
the  day.  In  about  fifteen  minutes  the  May-pole  rose 
over  the  crowd  with  a  slow,  majestic  motion,  and  its 
green  top  looked  down  upon  all  the  buildings  surround- 
ing it.     A  it'N  minutes  more  and  it  was  firmly  planted. 

A  second  gunshot  announced  a  new  deputation,  and 
the  same  two  old  men,  carrying  their  guns,  escorted  in 
two  of  ihe  leading  habitants.  One  of  the  habitants  car- 
ried a  little  greenish  goblet,  two  inches  high,  on  a  plate 
of  faience,  while  the  other  bore  a  bottle  of  brandy.  In- 
troduced by  the  indispensable  Jose,  they  begged  the 
seigneur  to  come  and  receive  the  May-pole  which  he  had 
so  graciously  consented  to  accept.  Upon  the  seigneur's 
response,  one  of  the  old  men  added  : 

"  Would  our  seigneur  be  pleased  to  '  wet '  the  May- 
pole before  he  blackens  it  ? "  With  these  words  he 
handed  the  seigneur  a  gun  and  a  glass  of  brandy. 

"We  will  Svet'  it  together,  my  friends,"  said  M. 
d'Haberville,  making  a  sign  to  Jose,  who  at  once  hast- 
ened forward  with  a  tray  cont?ining  four  glasses  of  the 
same  cordial  fluid.  Then  the  seigneur  rose,  touched 
glasses  with  the  four  delegates,  swallowed  at  a  draught 
their  brandy,  which  he  pronounced  excellent,  took  up 
the  gun  and  started  for  the  door,  followed  by  all  that 
were  in  the  room. 

As  soon  as  he  appeared  on  the  threshold  a  young 
man  clambered  up  the  May-pole  with  the  nimbleness  of 
a  squirrel,  gave  three  twirls  to  the  weather-cock,  and 
shouted  :  "  Long  live  the  King  !  Long  live  the  Seigneur 
d'Haberville  !  "  And  the  crowd  yelled  after  him  with 
all  the  vigor  of  their  lungs  :  "  Long  live  the  King  !  Long 
live  the  Seigneur  d'Haberville  !  "  Meanwhile  the  young 
man  had  clambered  down  again,  cutting  off  with  his 
tomahawk  as  he  descended  all  the  pegs  of  the  May-pole. 


THE  MAY-FEAST. 


119 


verybody 
roughout 
pole  rose 
I,  and  its 
urround- 
planted. 
tion,  and 
corted  in 
'ants  car- 
n  a  plate 
idy.  In- 
5ged  the 
h  he  had 
eigneur's 

:he  May- 
rords  he 

y. 

said  M. 
ice  hast- 
's  of  the 
touched 
draught 
took  up 
all  that 

a  young 
eness  of 
)ck,  and 
Seigneur 
lim  with 
!  Long 
e  young 
with  his 
ay-pole. 


. 


I 


Thereupon  the  seigneur  proceeded  to  blacken  the 
May-pole  by  firing  at  it  a  blank  charge  from  his  musket. 
The  other  members  of  the  family  followed  his  example 
in  the  order  of  their  rank,  the  ladies  firing  as  well  as  the 
men. 

Then  followed  a  rattling  feu-de-joie^  which  lasted  a 
good  half-hour.  One  might  have  fancied  the  1  lanor 
house  was  besieged  by  a  hostile  army.  The  May-pole, 
so  white  before,  seemed  suddenly  to  have  been  painted 
black,  so  zealous  were  all  to  do  it  honor.  Indeed,  the 
more  powder  one  could  burn  on  this  occasion,  the 
greater  the  compliment  to  him  for  whom  the  May-pole 
was  erected. 

As  every  pleasure  comes  to  an  end,  M.  d'Haberville 
seized  a  moment  when  the  firing  appeared  to  slacken  a 
little  to  invite  the  crowd  in  to  breakfast.  There  was 
another  rattling  discharge  by  way  of  temporary  farewell 
to  the  May-pole,  some  splinters  of  which  were  now  scat- 
tered about  the  ground  beneath,  and  every  one  moved 
silently  into  the  house. 

The  seigneur,  the  ladies,  and  a  dozen  of  the  oldest 
among  the  leading  habitafits^  were  seated  at  a  table  in 
the  seigneurial  dining-room.  This  table  was  set  with 
the  plain  dishes,  wines,  and  coffee  which  constituted  a 
Canadian  breakfast  among  the  upper  classes  ;  there  was 
added  also  to  gratify  the  guests  some  excellent  brandy, 
and  some  sugar-cakes  in  lieu  of  tread. 

It  was  no  offense  to  the  other  guests  to  be  excluded 
from  this  table ;  they  were  proud,  on  the  contrary,  of 
the  compliment  paid  to  their  more  venerable  relations 
and  friends. 

The  second  table  in  the  adjoining  room,  where 
Uncle  Raoul  presided,  was  supplied  as  would  have  been 
that  of  a  rich  habitant  on  a  similar  occasion.  Besides 
the  superfluity  of  viands  already  enumerated,  each  guest 


I20 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


found  beside  his  plate  the  inevitable  sugar-cake,  a  crul- 
ler, a  tart  about  five  inches  in  diameter  and  more  rich 
in  paste  than  in  jam,  and  an  unlimited  supply  of  brandy. 
There  were  also  some  bottles  of  wine  on  the  table,  to 
which  nobody  paid  the  least  attention ;  to  use  their  own 
energetic  expression,  it  did  not  "scratch  the  throat 
enough."  The  wine  was  placed  there  chiefy  for  the 
women,  who  were  occupied  in  serving  the  breakfast,  and 
who  would  take  their  places  at  the  table  after  the  men's 
departure.  Josephte  would  take  a  glass  or  two  of  wine 
without  much  pressing  after  she  had  had  her  accus- 
tomed appetizer. 

Over  the  third  table,  spread  in  the  mighty  kitchen, 
presided  Jules,  with  Archie  to  assist  him.  This  was  the 
table  for  the  young  men,  and  it  was  supplied  like  that  of 
Uncle  Raoul.  While  there  was  gayety  enough  at  the 
first  two  tables,  there  was  at  the  same  time  a  certain 
decorum  observed ;  but  at  the  third,  especially  toward 
the  end  of  the  repast,  which  lasted  far  on  into  the  morn- 
ing, there  was  such  a  perpetual  applause  that  one  could 
hardly  hear  himself  speak. 

The  reader  is  much  deceived  if  he  imagines  that 
the  May-pole  was  all  this  time  enjoying  repose.  Al- 
most every  moment  one  or  other  of  the  guests  would 
get  up,  run  out  and  fire  his  gun  at  the  May-pole,  and 
return  to  his  place  at  the  table  after  this  act  of 
courtesy. 

At  the  beginning  of  dessert  the  seigneur,  accompanied 
by  the  ladies,  visited  the  second  and  third  tables,  where 
they  were  rapturously  received.  A  friendly  word  was 
on  his  lips  for  every  one.  He  drank  the  health  of  his 
tenants,  and  his  tenants  drank  to  himself  and  his  family, 
to  the  acconipaniment  of  the  reports  of  twenty  muskets, 
which  were  blazing  away  outside. 

This  ceremony  at  an  end,  the  seigneur  returned  to 


THE  MAY-FEAST, 


121 


e,  a  crul- 
nore  rich 
f  brandy, 
table,  to 
heir  own 
e  throat 

for  the 
fast,  and 
lie  men's 

of  wine 
r  accus- 

kitchen, 
was  the 
I  that  of 
1  at  the 
certain 
'  toward 
e  morn- 
e  could 

les  that 
je.  Al- 
5  would 
Die,  and 
act  of 

tipanied 
i,  where 
Drd  was 
1  of  his 
family, 
luskets, 

'ned  to 


his  own  table,  where  he  was  induced  to  sing  a  little 
song,  in  the  chorus  of  which  all  joined. 

"  Oh,  here's  to  the  hero, 

The  hero,  the  hero  ; 
Oh,  here's  to  the  hero 

That  taught  men  i.o  dine ! 
When  joy  is  at  zero, 

At  zero,  at  zero  ; 
When  joy  is  at  zero, 

What  solace  like  wine  ! 

Chorus.     Till  he'  j  drunk,  or  quite  near  it, 
No  soldier  will  shrink, 
But  cry  shame  on  the  spirit 
Too  craven  to  drink. 

"  When  we  taste  the  rare  liquor. 

Rare  liquor,  rare  liquor  ; 
When  we  taste  the  rare  liquor 

That  tickles  our  throats, 
Our  hearts  they  beat  quicker. 

Beat  quicker,  beat  quicker ; 
Our  hearts  they  beat  quicker, 

Which  clearly  denotes 

Chorus.     That  till  drank,  or  quite  near  it. 
No  soldier  should  shrink. 
But  cry  shame  on  the  spirit 
Too  craven  to  drink." 

Scarcely  was  this   song  ended  when   the  sonorous 
voice  of  Uncle  Raoul  arose : 

'*  Oh,  I  am  a  drinker,  T, 
For  I'm  built  that  way  ; 
Let  every  man  stick  to  his  taste. 

Each  dog  have  his  day  ! 
The  drinker  he  flights  dull  care 

To  flight  with  a  song —  * 

'    He  serves  the  jolliest  god. 
And  he  serves  him  long! 

Clwrus.    Oh,  I  am  a  drinker,  I,  etc 


I 


122 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD, 


"  Let  Jose  go  fighting  and  put 
The  Dutchman  to  rout, 
But  I'll  win  my  laurels  at  home 
In  the  drinking-bout  ! 

Chorus.     Oh,  I  am  a  drinker,  I,  etc." 

**  Your  turn  now,  young  master !  "  cried  the  third 
table.  "  Our  elders  have  set  us  the  proper  example  to 
follow." 

"  With  all  my  heart,"  replied  Jules  ;  and  he  sang  the 
following  verses : 

"  God  Bacchus,  throned  upon  a  cask. 
Hath  bid  me  love  the  bell-mouthed  flask  ; 
Hath  bid  me  vow  these  lips  of  mine 
Shall  own  no  drink  but  wine  !  ' 

Chorus,     But  wine,  boys,  but  wine  ! 

We'll  drain,  we'll  drain  the  bottles  dry. 
And  swear  the  drink  divine  ! 

"  Nor  emperor  nor  king  may  know 
The  joys  that  from  our  bumpers  flow — 
The  mirth  that  makes  the  dullest  shine — 
Who  owns  no  drink  but  wine  ! 

Chorus.     But  wine,  boys,  but  wine  !  etc. 

*'  I^et  wives  go  knit  and  sweethearts  spin, 
We've  wine  to  drown  our  troubles  in. 
We'll  sing  the  praises  of  the  vine, 
And  own  no  drink  but  wine  ! 

Chorus.    But  wine,  boys,  but  wine  !  etc." 

The  example  once  set  by  the  hosts,  everybody  made 
haste  to  follow  it,  and  song  succeeded  song  with  ever- 
increasing  fervor.  Then  Father  Chouinard,  a  retired 
veteran  of  the  French  army,  after  two  songs  which  won 
great  applause,  suggested  that  it  was  time  to  withdraw. 
He  thanked  the  seigneur  for  his  hospitality,  and  pro- 


■ 


THE  MAY-FEAST, 


123 


posed  to  drink  his  health  once   again— a  proposition 
which  was  received  with  loud  enthusiasm. 

After  this  the  joyous  throng  took  its  departure  sing- 
ing,  with  the  accompaniment  of  musket-shots,  whose 
echoes,  thrown  back  by  the  bluff,  appeared  to  linger  re- 
luctantly behind  them. 


N 


CHAPTER   IX. 


THE   FEAST    OF   ST.    JEAN-BAPTISTE. 


Every  parish  used  to  keep  holiday  on  the  feast  of 
its  patron  saint.  The  feast  of  St.  John  the  Baptist,  the 
patron  of  the  parish  of  St.  Jean-Port-Joli,  falling  in  the 
most  delightful  season  of  the  year,  never  failed  to  at- 
tract a  host  of  pilgrims,  even  from  the  remotest  par- 
ishes. The  habitant^  kept  very  busy  with  his  farm- work, 
was  ready  by  this  time  for  a  little  rest,  and  the  fine 
weather  was  an  invitation  to  the  road.  In  every  family 
grand  preparations  were  made  for  this  important  occasion. 
Within  doors  the^^e  was  great  cleaning  up  ;  the  whitewash 
brush  went  everywhere  ;  the  floors  were  scrubbed  and 
strewed  with  pine-needles  ;  the  fatted  calf  was  killed,  and 
the  shopkeepers  drove  a  thriving  trade  in  drinks.  Thus 
by  the  twenty-third  day  of  June,  the  eve  of  the  fieast, 
every  house  was  thronged  with  pilgrims  from  the  manor 
and  the  presbytery  down. 

The  seigneur  used  to  present  the  consecrated  bread ; 
while  the  collection  at  the  high  mass  was  taken  up  by  two 
young  gentlemen  and  tv  o  young  ladies,  friends  of  the 
seigneur,  invited  down  from  Quebec  long  beforehand.  For 
the  consecrated  bread  and  for  the  little  cakes  (cousins) 
which  accompanied  it  there  was  no  small  need  in  that 
multitude  which  thronged  not  only  the  church,  out  the 
surrounding  yard.  All  the  doors  of  the  church  stood 
wide  open,  that  everybody  might  have  his  share  in  the 
service. 


THE  FEAST  OF  ST.  JEAN-BAPTISTE.        125 

It  was  an  understood  thing  that  the  seigneur  and  his 
friends  should  dine  that  day  at  the  presbytery,  and  that 
the  cur^  and  his  friends  should  take  supper  at  the  manor 
house.  Very  many  of  the  habitants,  too  far  away  from 
home  to  go  and  come  between  mass  and  vespers,  took 
lanch  in  the  little  wood  of  cedars,  pines,  and  firs  which 
covered  the  valley  between  the  church  and  the  St.  Law- 
rence. Nothing  can  be  imagined  more  picturesque  and 
bright  than  the  groups  scattered  over  the  mossy  green, 
and  gathered  merrily  around  their  snowy  tablecloths. 
The  cure  and  his  guests  never  failed  to  visit  the  picnick- 
ers and  exchange  a  few  words  with  the  men. 

On  all  sides  rose  rude  booths,  after  the  fashion  of 
wigwams,  covered  with  branches  of  maple  and  spruce, 
wherein  refreshments  were  sold.  In  a  monotonous 
voice,  with  strong  emphasis  on  the  first  and  last  words, 
the  proprietors  kept  crying  incessantly,  "  Good  beer  for 
sale  here ! "  And  all  the  papas  and  the  amorous  gal- 
lants, coaxed  up  for  the  occasior**  would  fumble  du- 
biously in  the  depths  of  their  wallets  for  the  wherewith 
to  treat  youngster  or  sweetheart. 

The  habitants  had  preserved  an  impressive  ceremony 
handed  down  from  their  Norman  ancestors.  This  cere- 
mony consisted  of  a  huge  bonfire  at  sunset  of  the  eve 
of  St.  Jean-Baptiste.  An  octagonal  pyramid,  about  ten 
feet  high,  was  constructed  before  the  main  entrance  of 
the  church.  Covered  with  branches  of  fir  interwoven 
amid  the  strips  of  cedar  which  formed  its  surface,  this 
structure  was  eminently  ornamental.  The  cur^,  accom- 
panied by  his  assistants,  marched  out  and  recited  cer- 
tain prayers  belonging  to  the  occasion  ;  then,  after  hav- 
ing blessed  the  structure,  he  set  a  torch  to  the  little  piles 
of  straw  arranged  at  the  eight  corners  of  the  pyramid. 
Straightway  the  whole  pile  burst  crackling  into  flame, 
amid  the  shouts  and  gun-firing  of  the  crowd  which  le- 


126 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


\m 


mained  in  attendance  till  the  pyramid  was  burned  to 
ashes. 

At  this  joyous  ceremony,  Blanche  d'Haberville  did 
not  fail  to  assist,  in  company  with  Jules,  Lochiel,  and 
Uncle  Raoul.  A  malicious  critic,  observing  Uncle 
Raoul  as  he  stood  leaning  on  his  sword  a  little  in  ad- 
vance of  the  throng,  might  have  been  reminded  of  the 
late  lamented  Vulcan  of  game-legged  memory,  so  lurid 
and  grotesque  an  effect  was  cast  upon  his  figure ;  which 
by  no  means  prevented  Uncle  Raoul  from  considering 
himself  the  most  important  personage  present. 

Uncle  Raoul  had  a  very  good  and  sufficient  reason 
for  taking  part  in  the  bonfire.  It  was  the  day  of  the 
salmon  sale.  Every  habitant  who  stretched  a  net  came 
to  sell  his  first  salmon  at  the  church  door  for  the  benefit 
of  the  souls  in  purgatory  ;  in  other  words,  with  the 
money  obtained  for  the  fish  he  would  pay  for  a  mass  to 
be  said  for  the  souls  about  which  he  was  most  con- 
cerned. The  auctioneer  announcing  the  object  of  the 
sale,  all  strove  to  outbid  each  other.  Nothing  could  be 
more  touching  than  this  closeness  of  communion  be- 
tween friends  and  relations  beyond  the  grave,  this  anx- 
ious concern  extending  even  to  the  invisible  world. 
Our  brethren  of  other  creeds  shed,  indeed,  as  we  do,  the 
bitterest  of  tears  over  the  tomb  which  covers  away  their 
dearest,  but  there  they  cease  their  solicitude  and  their 
devotion. 

When  I  was  a  child  my  mother  taught  me  to  con- 
clude all  my  prayers  with  this  appeal :  "  Receive,  O 
Lord,  soon  into  thy  blessed  paradise  the  souls  of  my 
grandfather  and  grandmother."  My  prayers  were  then 
for  kinsfolk  few  in  number  and  unknown  to  me.  Now, 
alas,  in  my  old  age,  how  many  names  would  have  to 
pass  my  lips  were  I  to  enumerate  in  my  prayers  all  the 
loved  ones  who  have  left  me  ! 


con- 


I'ii 


•■ 


"' 


.i^i 


;t 


T//£  FEAST  OF  ST.  JEAN-BAPTISTE.        127 

It  was  some  time  after  dark  when  Uncle  Raoul, 
Blanche,  Jules,  and  Archie  quitted  the  presbytery  where 
they  had  taken  supper.  Uncle  Raoul,  who  had  a  smat- 
tering of  astronomy,  explained  to  his  niece,  as  they  drove 
along,  the  mysteries  of  the  starry  vault,  marvels  of 
which,  for  all  the  efforts  of  their  professor  in  astronomy, 
our  young  men  knew  but  little. 

The  young  men  were  in  high  spirits,  and,  excited  by 
the  splendor  of  the  night  in  mid-forest,  they  laid  aside 
their  decorum  and  began  a  host  of  antics,  in  spite  of  the 
frowns  of  Blanche,  who  dreaded  lest  they  should  dis- 
please her  uncle. 

The  road  followed  the  banks  of  the  St  Lawrence. 
It  was  bordered  by  thick  woods,  with  here  and  there  a 
clearing  through  which  was  commanded  a  perfect  view 
of  the  giant  stream.  Coming  to  one  of  these  clearings, 
where  they  could  sweep  the  whole  river  from  Cape 
Tourmente  to  Malbaie,  Archie  was  unable  to  repress  a 
cry  of  surprise,  and,  turning  to  Uncle  Raoul,  he  sa'd : 

"  You,  sir  who  explain  so  well  the  marvels  of  the 
heaven,  might  I  beg  you  to  lower  your  gaze  to  earth  a 
moment  and  tell  me  the  meaning  of  all  those  lights 
which  are  flashing  along  the  north  shore  as  far  a«  eye 
can  see  ?  Verily,  I  begin  to  believe  Jose's  story.  Cana- 
da appears  to  be  that  land  of  goblins,  imps,  and  witches 
of  which  my  nurse  used  to  tell  me  amid  my  Scottish 
hills." 

**  Ah,"  said  Uncle  Raoul,  "  let  us  stop  here  a  mo- 
ment. That  is  the  people  of  the  north  shore  sending 
messages  to  their  friends  and  relations  on  this  side,  ac- 
cording to  their  custom  on  the  eve  of  St.  Jean-Bap- 
tiste.  They  need  neither  pen  nor  ink  for  their  com- 
munications. Let  us  begin  at  Eboulements :  Eleven 
adults  have  died  in  that  parish  since  autumn,  three  of 
them  in  one  house,  that  of  my  friend   Dufour.     The 


T 


128 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD, 


family  must  have  been  visited  by  small-pox  or  some 
malignant  fever,  for  those  Dufours  are  vigorous  and  all 
in  the  prime  of  life.  The  Tremblays  are  well,  which  I 
am  glad  to  perceive ;  they  are  worthy  people.  At  Bon- 
neau's  somebody  is  sick,  probably  the  grandmother, 
who  is  getting  well  on  in  years.  There  is  a  child  dead  at 
B^lair's  house.  I  fear  it  is  their  only  child,  as  theirs  is 
a  young  household." 

Thus  Uncle  Raoul  ran  on  for  some  time  gathering 
news  of  his  friends  at  Eboulements,  at  Isle  aux  Coudres, 
and  at  Petite-Riviere. 

"  I  understand  without  having  the  key,"  said  Lochiel. 
"Those  are  certain  prearranged  signals  which  are  ex- 
changed between  the  dwellers  on  the  opposite  shores  in 
order  to  communicate  matters  of  personal  interest." 

"  Yes,"  answered  Uncle  Raoul  ;  '*  and  if  we  were  on 
the  north  shore  we  should  observe  similar  signals  on 
this  side.  If  a  fire  burns  long  and  steadily,  that  is  good 
news  ;  if  it  sinks  gradually,  that  is  a  sign  of  sickness  ; 
if  it  is  extinguished  suddenly,  that  means  death  ;  if  it 
is  so  extinguished  more  than  once,  that  signifies  so  many 
deaths.  For  a  grown  person,  a  strong  blaze  ;  for  a  child, 
a  feeble  one.  The  means  of  intercourse  being  scanty 
enough  even  in  summer,  and  entirely  cut  off  during 
winter,  the  habitants,  made  ingenious  by  necessity,  have 
invented  this  simple  expedient. 

"The  same  signals,"  continued  Uncle  Raoul,  "are 
understood  by  all  the  sailors,  who  use  them  in  time  of 
wreck  to  convey  information  of  their  distress.  Only 
last  year  five  of  our  best  huntsmen  would  have  starved 
to  death  but  for  this  on  the  shoals  of  the  Loups-Ma- 
rins.  Toward  the  middle  of  March  there  was  a  sudden 
change  in  the  weather.  The  ice  went  out  all  at  once 
and  the  ducks,  geese,  and  brant  made  their  appearance 
in  astonishing  numbers.     Five  of  our  hunters,  well  sup- 


THE  FEAST  OF  ST  JEAN-BAP TISTE.       129 

plied  with  provisions — for  the  weather  is  treacherous  in 
Canada — set  out  at  once  for  the  Loups-Marins  ;  but  the 
birds  were  so  numerous  that  they  left  their  provisions 
in  the  canoe  (which  they  tied  carelessly  in  front  of  their 
hut),  and  ran  to  take  their  places  in  the  ditch  which 
they  had  to  get  scooped  out  before  the  return  of  the 
tide.  This  ditch,  you  must  know,  is  a  trough  dug  in 
the  mud  to  a  depth  of  three  or  four  feet,  wherein  the 
hunter  lies  in  wait  for  his  game,  which  are  very  wary,  the 
geese  and  brant  particularly.  It  is  a  wretchedly  uncom- 
fortable kind  of  hunting,  for  you  have  to  crouch  in  these 
holes,  with  your  dog,  often  for  seven  or  eight  hours  at  a 
stretch.  You  have  no  lack  of  occupation  to  kill  time, 
however,  for  you  have  to  keep  bailing  out  the  muddy 
water  which  threatens  to  drown  you. 

"  All  was  in  proper  shape,  and  our  hunters  were  ex- 
pecting with  the  rising  tide  an  ample  reward  for  their 
pains,  when  suddenly  there  came  up  a  frightful  storm. 
The  sleet  was  driven  by  the  wind  in  such  dense  clouds 
that  the  birds  could  not  be  seen  six  feet  away.  Our 
hunters,  having  waited  patiently  until  flood  tide,  which 
drove  them  from  their  posts,  returned  to  their  hut,  where 
a  dreadful  surprise  awaited  them  ;  their  canoe  had  been 
carried  away  by  the  storm,  and  there  remained,  to  feed 
five  men,  only  one  loaf  of  bread  and  one  bottle  of 
brandy,  which  they  had  taken  into  the  hut  on  their 
arrival,  that  they  might  indulge  in  a  snack  before  get- 
ting to  work.  They  went  to  bed  without  supper,  for  the 
snow-storm  might  last  three  days,  and,  being  about  three 
leagues  from  either  shore,  it  would  be  impossible,  in 
such  weather,  for  their  signals  of  distress  to  be  seen. 
But  their  calculations  fell  far  short  of  the  fact.  A  sec- 
ond winter  had  set  in.  The  cold  became  very  severe, 
the  snow  continued  falling  for  eight  days,  and  the  river 
was  once  more  filled  with  ice  as  in  January. 
9 


130 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


Then  they  began  to  make  their  signals,  which  could 
be  seen  from  both  shores;  but  ii  was  impossible  to  go 
to  their  aid.  The  signals  of  distress  wtre  followed  by 
those  of  death.  The  fire  was  lighted  every  evening  and 
immediately  extinguished.  When  three  of  the  party 
were  reported  dead,  some  habitants^  at  the  imminent  risk 
of  their  lives,  did  all  that  could  be  expected  of  the 
bravest  men  ;  but  in  vain,  for  the  river  was  so  thick 
with  ice  cakes  that  the  canoes  were  carried  up  and  down 
with  the  ebb  and  flow  of  the  tide,  and  could  not  get 
near  the  scene  of  the  disaster.  It  was  not  until  the 
seventeenth  day  that  they  were  rescued  by  a  canoe  from 
Isle  aux  Coudres.  When  the  rescuing  party  arrived  they 
heard  no  sound  in  the  hut,  and  feared  they  were  too 
late.  The  sufferers  were  still  alive,  however,  and  aft- 
er a  few  weeks  of  care  were  quite  themselves  again; 
but  they  had  learned  a  lesson  they  were  not  likely  to 
forget,  and  the  next  time  they  go  hunting  on  the  Loups- 
Marins  they  will  haul  their  canoe  up  out  of  reach  of 
high  tide." 

At  last  Uncle  Raoul  came  to  an  end,  just  as  anybody 
else  would. 

**  Dear  uncle,"  said  Blanche,  '*  do  you  not  know  a 
song  appropriate  to  so  delicious  a  night  as  this,  and 
so  enchanting  a  :  cene  ?  " 

"  Hear!  hear  !  "  exclaimed  the  young  men,  "a  song 
from  Uncle  Raoul !  " 

This  was  assailing  the  chevalier  on  his  weak  point. 
He  was  a  singer,  and  very  proud  of  it.  Without  further 
pressing  he  began,  in  a  splendid  tenor  voice,  the  follow- 
ing song,  which  he  sang  v/ith  peculiar  feeling  as  a  brave 
hunter  adorned  with  his  scars.  While  acknowledging 
that  his  verses  took  many  a  liberty  with  the  rules  of 
rhyme,  he  declared  that  these  defects  were  redeemed  by 
the  vividness  and  originality  of  the  composition. 


I 


THE  FEAST  OF  ST.  JEAN-BAP TISTE.       131 


1  could 
e  to  go 
^'ed  by 
ing  and 
;   party 
ent  risk 
of  the 
0  thick 
d  down 
not  get 
ntil  the 
oe  from 
ed  they 
^ere  too 
md  aft- 
i  again ; 
ikely  to 
:  Loups- 
:each  of 

inybody 

know  a 
his,  and 


(t 


a  song 


ik  point, 
t  further 
e  follow- 
5  a  brave 
wledging 
rules  of 
;emed  by 


UNCLE  RAOUL'S  SONG. 

As  I  was  walking,  somewhat  late, 
A-through  a  lonely  wood  and  great, 
Hunting  partridge,  snipe,  and  cock, 
And  careless  of  the  clock, 
I  raised  my  gun  to  drop  a  bird. 
When  in  the  bushes  something  stirred ; 
I  heard  a  cry — and  saw  the  game 
That  love  alone  can  tame. 

I  saw  a  fair  one  all  alone, 
Lamenting  on  a  mossy  stone, 
Her  hair  about  so  fair  a  face 
As  lightened  that  dark  place. 
I  called  my  dog  to  heel,  and  there 
I  fired  my  gun  into  the  air. 
So  loud  with  fear  the  lady  cried, 
I  hastened  to  her  side. 

I  said  to  her,  I  said,  "  Sweet  heart, 
Be  comforted,  whoe'er  thou  art. 
I  am  a  valiant  cavalier. 
Have  thou  of  me  no  fear. 
Beholding  thee,  my  lovely  one, 
Thus  left  lamenting  and  alone, 
I  fain  would  be  thy  knight-at-arms, 
And  shield  thee  from  alarms." 

•'  Oh,  succor  me,  fair  sir,"  she  saith, 
"  My  heart  with  fear  was  nigh  to  death, 
I  am  benighted  and  astray. 
Oh,  show  me,  sir,  my  way  ! 
Oh,  show  me,  gentle  sir,  the  road. 
For  Mary's  sake,  to  mine  abode. 
My  heart,  fair  sir,  but  for  your  grace, 
Had  died  in  this  dark  place." 

"  Now,  lady,  give  thy  hand  to  me. 
Not  far  the  way — not  far  with  thee. 
Right  glad  am  I  to  do  thee  pleasure. 
And  I  have  the  leisure. 


132 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD, 


But  might  I  crave  before  we  part, 
Oh,  lady  dear,  oh,  fair  sweet  heart- 
Might  I  dare  to  beg  the  bliss 
Of  one  small  kiss  ?  " 

Saith  she,  '•  I  can  not  say  thee  nay ; 
Thy  service  can  I  ne'er  repay. 
Take  one,  or  even  two,  or  three, 
If  so  it  pleaseth  thee. 
More  gallant  sir  was  never  seen  ; 
Much  honored  have  my  kisses  been." 
(This  was  the  last  I  heard  of  her) 
"And  now  farewell,  kind  sir." 

"  The  devil,"  said  Jules,  "  I  perceive,  dear  sir,  that 
you  did  not  waste  any  time.  I  will  wager,  now,  that 
you  have  been  a  terrible  gallant  in  your  younger  days, 
and  can  count  your  victims  by  the  score.  It  is  so,  eh, 
uncle  mine  ?     Do  tell  us  some  of  your  conquests." 

"Ugly,  my  dear  boy,"  replied  Uncle  Raoul,  with  a 
gratified  air,  "  ugly  I  certainly  am,  but  very  agreeable 
to  the  ladies." 

Jules  was  going  on  in  the  same  vein,  but  seeing  che 
way  his  sister  was  frowning  at  him,  he  bit  his  lips  to 
keep  from  laughing,  and  repeated  the  last  four  lines : 

"  '  More  gallant  sir  was  never  seen  ; 
Much  honored  have  my  kisses  been.* 
(This  was  the  last  I  heard  of  her) 
*  And  now  farewell,  kind  sir.'  " 

The  young  men  continued  the  singing  till  they 
reached  a  clearing,  where  they  saw  a  fire  in  the  woods  a 
little  way  from  the  road. 

"  That  is  the  witch  of  the  manor,"  said  Uncle  Raoul. 

"  I  have  always  forgotten  to  ask  why  she  was  called 
the  witch  of  the  manor,"  said  Archie. 

"  Because  she  has  established  herself  in  this  wood, 
which  formerly  belonged  to  the  D'Haherville  estate,'* 


THE  FEAST  OF  ST.  JEAN-BAPTISTE.        133 


sir,  that 
ow,  that 
er  days, 
:s  so,  eh, 
s." 

1,  with  a 
,greeable 

;eing  the 
s  lips  to 
lines : 


till   they 
woods  a 

le  Raoul. 
as  called 

lis  wood, 
estate,'* 


i 


said  Uncle  Raoul.  "  My  brother  exchanged  it  for  a 
part  of  his  present  domain,  in  order  to  get  nearer  his 
mill  at  Trois  Saumons." 

**  Let  us  go  and  see  poor  old  Marie,"  said  Blanche. 
"When  I  was  a  child  she  used  to  bring  me  the  first 
spring  flowers  and  the  first  strawberries  of  the  season.*' 

Uncle  Raoul  made  some  objections  on  account  of  the 
lateness  of  the  hour,  but  he  could  refuse  Blanche  noth- 
ing, and  presently  the  horses  were  hitched  on  the  edge 
of  the  wood  and  our  party  were  on  their  way  to  the 
witch's  abode. 

The  dwelling  of  old  Marie  by  no  means  resembled 
that  of  the  Cumaean  sybil,  or  of  any  other  sorceress,  an- 
cient or  modern.  It  was  a  sort  of  patchwork  hut,  built 
of  logs  and  unquarried  stones,  and  carpeted  within  with 
many  colored  mosses.  The  roof  was  cone-shaped  and 
covered  with  birch-bark  and  spruce  branches. 

Old  Marie  was  seated  on  a  log  at  the  door  of  her 
hut,  cooking  something  in  a  frying-pan  over  a  fire  which 
was  surrounded  with  stones  to  keep  it  from  spreading. 
She  paid  no  attention  to  her  visitors,  but  maintained  a 
conversation  with  some  invisible  bemg  behind  her.  She 
kept  waving  first  one  hand  and  then  the  other  behind 
her  back,  as  if  attempting  to  drive  away  this  being,  and 
the  burden  of  her  utterance  was  :  "  Avaunt,  avaunt !  it 
is  you  that  bring  the  English  here  to  eat  up  the 
French ! " 

"Oh,  ho,  my  prophetess  of  evil,"  exclaimed  Uncle 
Raoul,  "  when  you  get  done  talking  to  the  devil,  would 
you  be  kind  enough  to  tell  me  what  you  mean  by  that 
threat  ? " 

"Come,  Marie,"  interposed  Jules,  **tell  us  if  you 
really  think  you  are  talking  to  the  devil  ?  You  can  fooi 
the  habitants^  but  you  must  know  tha  t  we  put  no  faith  in 
such  delusions." 


134 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


**  Avaunt !  Avaunt !  "  ccntinued  the  witch  with  the 
same  gestures,  "  you  that  are  bringing  the  English  to  eat 
up  the  French." 

"  I  am  going  to  speak  to  her,"  said  Blanche  ;  "  she 
loves  me,  and  I  am  sure  she  will  answer  me." 

Approaching  the  old  woman,  she  laid  her  hand  on 
her  shoulder  and  said  gently  : 

**  Do  you  not  know  me,  my  good  Marie  ?  Do  you 
not  recognize  /a  petite  seigneuresse,  as  you  used  to  call 
me.>" 

The  old  woman  interrupted  her  monologue  and 
looked  tenderly  at  the  girl.  A  tear  even  gathered  in  her 
eyes,  but  could  not  overflow,  so  few  such  were  there  in 
her  burning  brain. 

"  Why,  dear  Marie,  do  you  lead  this  wild  and  vaga- 
bond life  ? "  exclaimed  Blanche.  "  Why  do  you  live  in 
the  woods,  you  who  are  the  wife  of  a  rich  habitant^  the 
mother  of  a  numerous  family?  Your  poor  children, 
brought  up  by  strangers,  are  crying  for  their  dear  moth- 
er Mamma  and  I  were  looking  for  you  at  your  house 
after  the  feast.  We  were  talking  to  your  husband  who 
loves  you.     How  unhappy  you  must  be  !  " 

The  poor  woman  sprang  upon  her  seat  and  her  eyes 
shot  flames,  as  she  cried,  pale  with  anger : 

"  Who  is  it  dare  speak  of  my  misfortunes  ?  Is  it  tl  ?; 
fair  young  girl,  the  darling  of  her  parents,  who  will  never 
be  wife  and  mother  ?  Is  it  the  rich  and  noble  lady, 
brought  up  in  silk  and  fine  linen,  who  will  soon,  like  me, 
have  but  a  hut  to  shelter  her?     Woe  !  Woe !  Woe  !  " 

She  was  about  to  retire  into  the  forest,  but  seeing 
Jules  much  moved,  she  cried  again  : 

**  Is  it  Jules  d'Haberville  who  is  so  concerned  at  my 
wretchedness  ?  Is  it,  indeed,  Jules  d'Haberville,  bravest 
of  the  brave,  whose  bleeding  body  I  see  them  dragging 
over  the  Plains  of  Abraham  ?     Is  it,  indeed,  his  blood 


I 


THE  FEAST  OF  ST.  JEAN-BAP TISTE.        135 


th  the 
to  eat 


that  crimsons  the  last  glorious  field  of  my  country? 
Woe  !  Woe  !  Woe  !  " 

"  This  poor  woman  moves  my  heart  strangely,"  said 
Lochiel,  as  she  was  disappearing  in  the  thicket. 

The  creature  heard  him.  She  returned  once  more, 
folded  her  arms,  turned  upon  him  a  gaze  of  calm  bitter- 


ness, and  said 


"  Keep  your  pity  for  yourself,  Archibald  de  Lochiel. 
The  family  fool  has  no  need  of  your  pity  !  Keep  your 
pity  for  yourself  and  for  your  friends  !  Keep  it  for 
yourself  on  that  day  when,  forced  to  execute  a  cruel 
order,  you  shall  tear  with  your  nails  that  bieast  that 
hides  a  noble  and  generous  heart !  Keep  it  for  your 
friends,  Archibald  de  Lochiel,  on  that  day  when  you 
shall  set  the  torch  to  their  peaceful  dwellings,  that  day 
when  the  old  and  feeble,  the  women  and  the  children,  shall 
flee  before  you  as  sheep  before  the  wolf!  Keep  your 
pity  !  You  will  need  it  all  when  you  carry  in  your  arms 
the  bleeding  body  of  him  you  call  your  brother  !  I  have 
but  one  grief  at  this  hour,  Archibald  de  Lochiel.  it  is 
that  I  have  no  curse  to  utter  against  you.  Woe  !  Woe ! 
Woe  !  "     And  she  disappeared  into  the  forest. 

**  May  I  be  choked  by  an  Englishman,"  said  Uncle 
Raoul,  "if  poor  silly  Marie  has  not  shown  herself  to- 
night a  sorceress  of  the  approved  type,  the  type  which 
has  been  celebrated  by  poets  ancient  and  modern.  I 
wonder  what  mad  weed  she  has  been  rubbing  against, 
she  who  is  always  so  polite  and  gentle  with  us." 

All  agreed  that  they  had  never  heard  anything  like 
it  before.  The  rest  of  the  drive  was  passed  in  silence  ; 
for,  though  attaching  no  credence  to  the  witch's  words, 
they  could  not  at  once  throw  off  their  ominous  influence. 

On  their  arrival  at  the  manor  house,  however,  where 
they  found  a  number  of  friends  awaiting  them,  this  little 
cloud  was  soon  scattered. 


I 


136 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


The  joyous  laughter  of  the  oarty  could  be  heard 
even  to  the  highway,  and  the  ech  ?es  of  the  bluff  were 
kept  busy  repeating  the  refrain  : 

•*  Ramenez  vos  moutons,  berg^re, 
Belle  bergere,  vos  moutons." 

The  dancers  had  broken  one  of  the  chains  of  their 
dance,  and  were  running  everywhere,  one  behind  the 
other,  around  the  vast  court-yard.  They  surrounded 
the  chevalier's  carriage,  the  chain  reunited,  and  they 
began  dancing  round  and  round,  crying  to  Mademoiselle 
d'Haberville,  ''  Descend,  fair  shepherdess." 

Blanche   sprang  lightly  out  of  the   carriage.     The 

leader  of  the  dance  at  once  whisked  her  off,  and  began 

to  sing  : 

"  Hail  to  the  fairest  in  the  land ! 

(Hail  to  the  fairest  in  the  land  ! ) 
"  Now  I  take  you  by  the  hand. 
(Now  I  take  you  by  the  hand.) 
I  lead  you  here,  I  lead  you  there  ; 
Bring  back  your  sheep,  O  shepherdess  fair. 
Bring  back  your  sheep  and  with  care  them  keep, 
Shepherdess  fair,  bring  back  your  sheep. 
Bring  back,  bring  back,  bring  back  with  care, 
Bring  back  your  sheep,  O  shepherdess  fair  !  " 

After  making  several  moie  rounds,  with  the  cheva- 
lier's carriage  in  the  middle,  and  all  the  time  singing : 

"  Ramenez,  ramenez,  ramenez  done. 
Belle  bergere,  vos  moutons." 

They  at  length  broke  up  the  chain,  and  all  danced  mer- 
rily into  the  house. 

Uncle  Raoul,  at  last  set  at  liberty  by  the  inexorable 
dancers,  descended  as  he  could  from  the  carriage  and 
hastened  to  join  the  party  at  the  supper-table. 


heard 
f  were 


f  their 
id  the 
undcd 
d  they 
loiselle 

The 
began 


CHAPTER   X. 


"the  good  gentleman." 


Tout  homme  qui,  d  quarante  ans,  n'est  pas  misanthrope,  n'a  jamais 
aime  les  hommes.— Champfort. 

J'ai  ete  prodigieusement  fier  jusqu'A  quarente-cinq  ans  :  mais  le  mal- 
heur  m'a  bien  courbe  et  m'a  rendu  aussi  humble  que  j'etais  fier.  Ah  ! 
c'est  une  grande  ecole  que  le  malheur !  j'ai  appris  d  me  courber  et  d 
m'humilier  sous  la  main  de  Dif  u.— Chenedoll^. 


5p, 


cheva- 
;ing: 


;d  mer- 

forable 
ge  and 


The  two  months  which  Jules  had  to  spend  with  his 
family  before  his  departure  for  Europe  had  coro.e  to  an 
end,  and  the  vessel  in  which  he  had  taken  passage  was 
to  sail  in  two  or  three  days.  Lochiel  was  at  Quebec, 
making  preparations  for  a  voyage  which  could  hardly 
take  less  than  two  months.  Abundant  provisions  were 
necessary,  and  Seigneur  d'Haberville  had  intrusted  this 
point  to  the  young  Scotchman's  care,  while  Jules's  mother 
and  sister  were  loading  down  the  young  men's  valises 
with  all  the  comforts  and  dainties  they  could  think  of. 
As  the  time  drew  near  for  a  separation  which  might  be 
forever,  Jules  was  drawn  closer  and  closer  to  his  family, 
whom  he  could  hardly  bear  to  leave  even  for  a  moment. 
One  day,  however,  he  remarked  : 

"  As  you  know,  I  promised  '  the  good  gentleman  * 
that  I  would  go  and  stay  a  night  with  him  before  my 
departure.  I  will  be  back  to-morrow  morning  in  time  to 
breakfast  with  you." 

With  these  words,  he  picked  up  his  gun  and  started 


d 


138 


THE  CANADfAA'S  OF  CLD. 


■I'  '  I 


i  i 


II 


for  the  woods,  in  order  to  take  a  short  cut  and  have  a 
little  hunting  by  the  way. 

M.  d'Egmont,  whom  everybody  called  "  the  good 
gentleman,"  dwelt  in  a  cottage  on  ihe  Trois  Sau- 
mons  River,  about  three  quarters  of  a  league  from 
the  manor  house.  With  him  there  lived  a  faithful  fol- 
lower who  had  shared  alike  his  good  and  his  evil  for- 
tunes. Andre  Francoeur  was  of  the  same  age  as  his 
master,  and  was  also  his  foster-brother.  Having  been 
the  playfellow  of  his  childhood,  and  the  trusted  friend 
rather  than  the  valet  of  his  riper  years,  Andre  FranccEur 
had  found  it  as  natural  to  follow  D'Egmont's  fortunes 
in  adversity  as  in  prosperity. 

D'Egmont  and  his  servant  were  living  on  the  interest 
of  a  small  capital  which  they  had  in  common.  One 
might  even  say  that  the  savings  of  the  valet  were  even 
greater  than  those  of  the  master.  Was  it  consistent 
with  D'Egmont's  honor  to  be  thus,  in  a  way,  dependent 
on  his  own  servant?  Many  will  answer  no  ;  but  "the 
good  gentleman"  argued  otherwise. 

"  When  I  -■  as  rich  I  spent  my  wealth  for  my  friends, 
and  how  have  my  friends  rewarded  me  ?  Andr^,  alone, 
has  shown  himself  grateful  and  noble-hearted.  In  no 
way,  therefore,  do  I  lower  myself  by  associating  my 
fortune  with  his,  as  I  would  have  done  with  one  of 
my  own  station  had  one  been  found  as  noble  as  my 
valet." 

When  Jules  arrived,  the  good  gentleman  was  busy 
weeding  a  bed  of  lettuce  in  his  garden.  Entirely  ab- 
sorbed, he  did  not  see  his  young  friend,  who  overheard 
the  following  soliloquy : 

"  Poor  little  insect  !  I  have  wounded  you,  and  lo  ! 
all  the  other  ants,  just  now  your  friends,  are  falling  upon 
you  to  devour  you.  These  tiny  creatures  are  as  cruel 
as  men.     I  am  going  to  rescue  you  ;  and  as  for  you,  my 


••  THE   GOOD   GEXTLEMAN 


139 


good  ants,  thanks  for  the  lesson ;  I  have  now  a  better 
opinion  of  my  kind." 

"  Poor  fellow  !  "  thought  Jules,  "  with  a  heart  so 
tender,  how  he  must  have  suffered  I  " 

Withdrawing  noiselessly,  he  entered  by  the  garden 
gate. 

M.  d'Egmont  uttered  an  exclamation  of  delight 
on  seeing  his  young  friend,  whom  he  loved  as  a  son. 
Although,  during  the  thirty  years  that  he  had  lived  on 
Captain  d'Haberville's  estate,  he  had  constantly  refused 
to  take  up  his  abode  at  the  manor  house,  he  yet  was  a 
frequent  visitor  there,  often  remaining  a  week  at  a  time 
when  there  were  no  strangers  present.  Without  actually 
shunning  society,  he  had  suffered  too  much  in  his  rela- 
tions with  men  of  his  own  class  to  be  able  to  mingle 
cordially  in  their  enjoyments. 

Although  poor,  M.  d'Egmont  was  able  to  do  a 
great  deal  of  good.  He  comforted  the  afflicted;  he 
visited  the  sick,  whom  he  healed  with  herbs  whose  vir- 
tues were  revealed  to  him  by  his  knowledge  of  botany; 
and  if  his  alms-giving  was  not  lavish,  it  was  accompa- 
nied by  such  sympathy  and  tact  that  it  was  none  the 
less  appreciated  by  the  poor,  who  had  come  to  know 
him  by  no  other  title  than  that  of  le  bon  gentilhomme. 

When  D'Egmont  and  his  young  friend  entered  the 
house,  Andr^  set  before  them  a  dish  of  fine  trout  and  a 
plate  of  broiled  pigeons,  garnished  with  chives. 

"  It  is  a  frugal  supper,  indeed,"  said  D'Egmont.  "  I 
caught  the  trout  myself  in  yonder  brook,  about  an  hour 
ago,  and  Andr^  bagged  the  doves  this  morning  at  sun- 
rise, in  yonder  dead  tree,  half  a  gunshot  from  the  cot- 
tage. You  see  that,  without  being  a  seigneur,  I  have  a 
fish-pond  and  dove-cote  on  my  estate.  Now  for  a  salad 
of  lettuce  with  cream,  a  bowl  of  raspberries,  a  bottle  of 
wine — and  there  is  your  supper,  friend  Jules."  -    - 


140 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


"  And  never  fish-pond  and  dove-cote  supplied  better 
meal  to  a  hungry  hunter,"  exclaimed  Jules. 

The  meal  was  a  cheerful  one,  for  M.  d'Egmont 
seemed  to  have  recovered  something  of  the  gayety  of 
his  youth.  His  conversation  was  no  less  instructive 
than  amusing ;  for,  although  he  had  mingled  much  with 
men  in  his  early  days,  he  had  found  in  study  a  refuge 
from  his  unhappiness. 

**  How  do  you  like  this  wine  ? "  said  he  to  Jules,  who 
was  eating  like  a  hungry  wolf,  and  had  already  quaffed 
several  bumpers. 

"  It  is  capital,  upon  my  word." 

"You  are  a  connoisseur,  my  friend,"  went  on  M. 
d'Egmont.  "  If  it  is  true  that  wine  and  men  im- 
prove with  age,  that  wine  must  indeed  be  excellent ;  and 
as  for  me,  I  must  be  approaching  perfection,  for  I  am 
very  nearly  ninety." 

**  Thus  it  is,"  said  Jules,  "  that  they  call  you  *  the 
good  gentleman.'  " 

*'  The  Athenians,  my  son,  sent  Aristides  into  exile, 
and  at  the  same  time  called  him  the  Just.  But  let  us 
drop  men  and  speak  of  wine.  For  my  own  part,  I  drink 
it  rarely.  As  with  many  other  useless  luxuries,  I  have 
learned  to  do  without  it,  and  yet  I  enjoy  perfect  health. 
This  wine  is  older  than  you  are  ;  its  age,  for  a  man, 
would  not  be  much,  but  for  wine  it  is  something.  Your 
father  sent  me  a  basket  of  it  the  day  you  were  born.  In 
his  happiness  he  made  gifts  to  all  his  friends.  I  have 
kept  it  with  great  care,  and  I  only  bring  it  out  on  such 
rare  occasions  as  this.  Here  is  a  health  to  you,  my  dear 
boy.  Success  to  all  your  undertakings  ;  and  when  you 
come  back  to  New  France,  promise  that  you  will  come 
and  sup  here  with  me,  and  drink  a  last  bottle  of  this 
wine,  which  I  will  keep  for  you.  You  look  astonished. 
You  think  it  likely  that  when  you  return  I  shall  have 


•^ 
i'^' 


.1!! 


1  :i;ii 


<< 


THE  GOOD  gentleman:* 


141 


better 


long  since  paid  that  debt  which  is  paid  even  by  the 
most  recalcitrant  debtor.  You  are  mistaken,  my  son  ;  a 
man  like  me  does  not  die.  But  come,  we  have  finished 
supper,  let  us  go  and  sit  sub  iegmine  fagt^  which  may  be 
interpreted  to  mean,  under  that  splendid  walr.ut-tree 
whose  branches  are  reflected  in  the  river." 

The  night  was  magnificent.  The  ripple  of  running 
water  was  the  only  sound  that  broke  the  moonlit  still- 
ness. M.  d'Egmont  was  silent  for  some  moments,  and 
Jules,  not  caring  to  disturb  his  reverie,  began  tracing 
hieroglyphics  with  his  finger  in  the  sand. 

"  I  have  greatly  desired,"  said  "  the  good  gentleman," 
•*  to  have  a  talk  with  you  before  your  departure,  before 
you  go  out  into  the  world.  I  know  that  we  can  profit 
little  by  the  experience  of  others,  but  that  each  must 
purchase  his  own.  No  matter,  I  shall  at  least  have  the 
consolation  of  having  opened  my  heart  to  you,  a  heart 
which  should  have  been  dried  up  long  since,  but  which 
yet  beats  as  warmly  as  when  I  led  the  joyous  troops  of 
my  companions  more  than  half  a  century  ago  Just 
now  you  looked  at  me  with  surprise  when  I  said  that 
a  roan  like  me  does  not  die ;  you  thought  I  spoke  in 
metaphor,  but  I  was  sincere  at  the  moment.  So  often 
on  my  knees  have  I  begged  for  death  that  I  have  ended 
by  almost  doubting  Death's  existence.  The  heathen  have 
made  of  him  a  divinity,  doubtless  that  they  might  call 
him  to  their  aid  in  time  of  heavy  sorrow.  If  it  is  as 
physiology  teaches  us,  and  our  sufferings  depend  upon 
the  sensitiveness  of  our  nerves,  then  have  I  suffered  what 
would  have  killed  fifty  strong  men."  M.  d'Egmont  was 
silent  once  more,  and  Jules  flung  some  pebbles  into  the 
river. 

"  See,"  resumed  the  old  man,  "  this  stream  which 
flows  so  quietly  at  our  feet.  Within  an  hour  it  mingles 
with  the  troubled  waters  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  and  in  a 


142 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


m 


!l 


I 


% 


;0 


few  days  it  will  be  writhing  under  the  scourge  of  the 
Atlantic  storms.  Behold  therein  an  image  of  our  life  I 
Thy  days  hitherto  have  been  like  the  current  of  this 
stream  ;  but  soon  you  will  be  tossed  on  the  great  river 
of  life,  and  will  be  carried  into  the  ocean  of  men,  whose 
waves  rage  ceaselessly.  I  have  watched  you  from  child- 
hood up ;  I  have  studied  your  character  minutely,  and 
that  is  what  has  caused  me  to  seek  this  conversation. 
Between  your  character  and  mine  I  have  found  the 
closest  resemblance.  Like  you,  I  was  born  kind-hearted, 
sympathetic,  generous  to  a  fault.  How  has  it  come  that 
these  virtues,  which  should  have  secured  me  happiness, 
have  rather  been  the  cause  of  all  my  ills  }  How  comes 
it,  my  son,  that  these  qualities,  so  applauded  among  men, 
have  risen  against  me"  as  my  most  implacable  enemies 
and  beaten  me  to  the  dust  ?  I  can  not  but  think  that  I 
deserved  a  kindlier  fate.  Born,  like  you,  of  rich  and  lov- 
ing parents,  I  was  free  to  follow  my  every  inclination. 
Like  you,  I  sought  nothing  so  much  as  the  lovef  of  those 
about  me.  Like  you,  in  my  childhood  I  would  not  will- 
ingly injure  the  most  insignificant  of  God's  creatures, 
and  to  the  beggar  child  I  gave  the  very  clothes  I  wore. 
Needless  to  add  that,  again  like  you,  my  hand  was  ever 
open  to  all  my  comrades,  so  that  I  was  said  to  have 
*  nothing  of  my  own.*  It  is  curious  to  consider  that,  at 
the  hands  of  my  playfellows,  I  never  tasted  ingratitude. 
Is  ingratitude  the  attribute  only  of  the  full-grown  man  ? 
Or  is  it  a  snare  which  this  human  nature  casts  about  the 
feet  of  generous  childhood,  the  better  to  despoil  the 
prey  when  grown  to  be  a  richer  prize  !  But,  no  ;  it  is 
impossible  that  youth  could  be  so  depraved. 

"  And  you,  Jules,"  continued  the  old  man  after  this 
semi-soliloquy,  "  have  you  yet  experienced  the  ingrati- 
tude of  those  you  have  befriended,  the  ingratitude  which 
pierces  the  heart  like  a  blade  of  steel  ? "     .. 


i! 


*«  THE  GOOD  CENTLEMAXr 


M3 


"  Never,"  said  the  young  man. 

*'  It  is  self-interest,  then,  bitter  fruit  of  civilization, 
which  causes  ingratitude  ;  the  more  a  man  needs,  the 
more  ungrateful  he  becomes.  This  reminds  me  of  a 
little  story.  About  twenty  years  ago  a  poor  savage  of 
the  Huron  tribe  came  to  me  in  a  pitiable  state.  It  was 
spring.  He  had  made  a  long  and  painful  march,  he 
had  swum  the  icy  streams  when  overheated,  and  as  a  re- 
sult he  was  seized  with  a  violent  attack  of  pleurisy,  ac- 
companied by  inflammation  of  the  lungs.  I  judged  that 
only  a  copious  bleeding  could  save  him,  and  I  made  shift 
to  bleed  him  with  my  penknife.  In  a  word,  with  care 
and  simple  remedies,  I  effected  a  cure ;  but  his  conva- 
lescence was  slow,  and  he  stayed  with  me  more  than  two 
months.  In  a  little  while  Andre  and  I  could  talk  to  him 
in  his  own  tongue.  He  told  me  that  he  was  a  great 
warrior  and  hunter,  but  that  fire-water  had  been  his  ruin. 
His  thanks  were  as  brief  as  his  farewells : 

"  *  My  heart  is  too  full  for  many  words,*  said  he  ; 
*  the  Huron  warrior  knows  not  how  to  weep  like  a  wo- 
man. I  thank  you,  my  brothers.'  And  he  vanished 
in  the  forest. 

"I  had  entirely  forgotten  my  Indian,  when  about 
four  years  later  he  arrived  at  my  door,  accompanied  by 
another  savage.  I  could  scarcely  recognize  him.  He 
was  splendily  clad,  and  everything  about  him  bespoke 
the  great  hunter  and  the  mighty  warrior.  In  one  corner 
of  my  room  he  and  his  companion  laid  down  two  bun- 
dles of  merchandise  of  great  value — the  richest  furs,  moc- 
casins splendidly  embroidered  with  porcupine  quills,  and 
exquisite  pieces  of  work  in  birch  bark,  such  as  the  In- 
dians alone  know  how  to  make.  I  congratulated  him 
upon  the  happy  turn  his  affairs  had  taken. 

"  *  Listen  to  me,  my  brother,'  said  he.  *  I  owe  you 
much,  and  1  am  come  to  pay  my  debt.     You  saved  my 


144 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


life,  for  you  know  good  medicine.  You  have  done 
more,  for  you  know  the  words  which  reach  the  heart ; 
dog  of  a  drunkard  as  I  was,  I  am  become  once  more  a 
man  as  I  was  created  by  the  Great  Spirit.  You  were 
rich  when  you  lived  beyond  the  great  water.  This  wig- 
wam is  too  small  for  you  ;  build  one  large  enough  to 
hold  your  great  heart.  All  these  goods  belong  to  you.' 
The  gratitude  of  this  ci^ld  of  the  forest  brought  tears 
to  my  eyes  ;  for  in  all  my  long  life  I  had  found  but  two 
men  who  could  be  grateful — the  faithful  Andr^,  my  fos- 
ter-brother, and  this  poor  Indian,  who,  seeing  that  I  was 
going  to  accept  nothing  but  a  pair  of  deer-hide  mocca- 
sins, struck  three  fingers  rapidly  across  his  mouth  with  a 
shrill  cry  of  *  houa,'  and  took  himself  off  at  top  speed 
with  his  companion.  Never  after  could  I  find  a  trace 
of  him.  Our  good  cur^  undertook  the  sale  of  the  goods, 
the  product  of  which,  with  interest,  was  lately  distr'  ited 
among  his  tribe." 

The  good  gentleman  sighed,  reflected  a  moment,  then 
resumed  his  speech  : 

"  I  am  now  going  to  tell  you,  my  dear  Jules,  of  the 
most  happy  and  most  wretched  periods  of  my  life.  Five 
years  of  happiness !  Five  years  of  misery !  O  God  ! 
for  one  single  day  of  the  joy  of  my  youth,  the  joy  as 
keen  as  pain,  which  could  make  me  forget  all  that  I  have 
suffered  !  Oh,  for  one  of  those  happy  days  when  1  be- 
lieved in  human  friendship,  when  I  knew  not  the  in- 
gratitude of  men ! 

"  When  I  had  completed  my  studies,  all  careers  were 
open  to  me.  That  of  arms  seemed  most  suitable,  but  I 
hated  to  shed  blood.  I  obtained  a  place  of  trust  under 
the  government.  For  me  such  a  place  was  ruin.  I  had 
a  great  fortune  of  my  own,  my  office  was  a  lucrative 
one,  and  I  scattered  by  handfuls  the  gold  which  I  de- 
spised. . 


••  THE  GOOD  gentleman:* 


H5 


"  I  do  not  accuse  others  in  order  to  palliate  my  own 
follies.  But  one  thing  is  sure,  I  had  more  than  enough  for 
all  my  own  expenses,  though  not  for  those  of  my  friends 
and  my  friends'  friends,  who  rushed  upon  me  like  hungry 
wolves.  I  bear  them  no  grudge  ;  they  but  acted  ac- 
cording to  their  nature.  As  for  me,  my  hand  was  never 
shut.  Not  only  my  purse,  but  my  signature  was  at  every- 
body's disposal.  There  was  my  greatest  mistake;  for  I 
may  say  in  all  sincerity  that  ninety-nine  times  out  of  a 
hundred,  in  my  times  of  greatest  embarrassment,  I  had 
to  meet  their  liabilities  with  my  own  cash  in  order  to 
save  my  credit.     A  great  English  poet  has  said  : 

"  Neither  a  borrower  nor  a  lender  be, 
For  borrowing  dulls  the  edge  of  husbandry, 
And  loan  oft  loses  both  itself  and  friend. 

"  Give,  my  dear  boy,  with  both  hands  ;  but  be  chary  of 
your  signature. 

"  My  private  affairs  were  so  mingled  with  those  of 
my  office  that  it  was  long  before  I  discovered  how  deep- 
ly I  was  involved.  The  revelation  came  upon  me  like 
a  thunderbolt.  Not  only  was  I  ruined,  but  I  was  on  the 
verge  of  a  serious  defalcation.  At  last  I  said  to  myself, 
*  what  matters  the  loss  of  the  gold,  so  long  as  I  pay  my 
debts.'*  I  am  young,  and  not  afraid  to  work,  and  I 
shall  always  have  enough.  Moreover,  my  friends  owe 
me  considerable  sums.  When  they  see  my  difficulties, 
not  only  will  they  hasten  to  give  back  what  they  owe, 
I  ut  they  will  do  for  me  as  I  have  so  often  done  for 
them.'  What  a  fool  I  was  to  judge  others  by  myself! 
For  me,  I  would  have  moved  heaven  and  earth  to  save 
a  friend  from  ruin.  How  innocent  and  credulous  I  was ! 
They  had  good  reason,  the  wretches,  to  laugh  at  me. 

*'  I  took  account  of  what  was  owed  me  and  of  the 
value  of  my  property,  and  then  perceived  that  with 
these  affairs  settled  up  there  would  remain  but  a  small 
zo 


146 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD, 


balance,  which  I  could  cover  with  the  help  of  my  rela- 
tions. The  load  rolled  off  my  heart.  How  little  I 
knew  of  men  !  I  told  my  debtors,  in  confidence,  how  I 
was  situated.  I  found  them  strangely  cold.  Several  to 
whom  I  had  lent  without  written  acknowledgment  had 
even  forgotten  that  they  owed  me  anything.  Those 
whose  notes  1  held,  declared  it  was  ungenerous  of  me  to 
take  them  unawares.  The  greater  number,  who  had  had 
business  at  my  office,  claimed  boldly  that  I  was  in  debt 
to  them.  I  did,  indeed,  owe  them  a  trifle,  while  they 
owed  me  considerable  sums.  I  asked  them  for  a  settle- 
ment, but  they  put  me  off  with  promises  ;  and  mean- 
while undermined  my  credit  by  whispering  it  about  that 
I  was  on  the  verge  of  ruin.  They  even  turned  me  into 
ridicule  as  a  spendthrift  fool.  One  wag  of  a  fellow, 
whom  but  eighteen  months  before  I  had  saved  not  only 
from  ruin  but  from  disgrace  (his  secret  shall  die  with 
me),  was  hugely  witty  at  my  expense.  His  pleasantries 
had  a  great  success  among  my  old  friends.  Such  meas- 
ureless ingratitude  as  this  completely  crushed  me.  One 
only,  and  he  a  mere  acquaintance,  hearing  that  I  was 
in  difficulties,  hastened  to  me  with  these  words  : 

"*We  have  had  some  little  transactions  together ;  I 
think  you  will  find  here  the  correct  balance  in  your 
favor.  Please  look  up  the  matter  in  your  books  and  see 
if  I  am  right.' 

"  He  is  dead  long  since.  Honor  to  his  memory,  and 
may  the  blessings  of  an  old  man  descend  upon  his  chil- 
dren ! 

"  The  inevitable  day  was  close  at  hand,  and  even  had 
I  had  the  heart  to  make  further  struggle  nothing  could 
save  me.  My  friends  and  enemies  alike  were  intriguing 
for  the  spoils.  I  lowered  my  head  before  the  storm  and 
resigned. 

"  I  will  not  sadden  you  with  the  story  of  all  I  suf- 


I 


(< 


THE  GOOD  GENTLEMAN." 


H7 


y  rela- 

ittle  I 

how  I 

eral  to 

nt  had 

Those 

■  me  to 

ad  had 

n  debt 

I  they 

settle- 

mean- 

ut  that 

le  into 

fellow, 

ot  only 

ie  with 

jantries 

1  meas- 

.     One 

:  I  was 

;her ;  I 
n  your 
md  see 

ry,  and 
is  chil- 

en  had 
I  could 
riguing 
rm  and 

I  suf- 


fered ;  suffice  to  say  that,  fallen  into  the  claws  of  piti- 
less creditors,  I  drank  the  cup  of  bitterness  to  the  dregs. 
Apart  from  the  ingratitude  of  my  friends,  I  was  not  the 
sort  of  man  to  grieve  greatly  over  my  mere  personal  mis- 
fortunes. Even  within  the  walls  of  the  Bastille  my  gay- 
ety  would  not  have  deserted  me  ;  I  might  have  danced 
to  the  grim  music  of  the 'grating  of  my  bolts.  But  my 
family  !  my  family !  Oh,  the  gnawing  remorse  which 
harrasses  the  day,  which  haunts  the  long  sleepless  night, 
which  suffers  you  neither  forgetfulness  nor  rest,  which 
wre.i  'les  the  nerves  of  one's  heart  as  with  pincers  of 
steel ! 

"  I  believe,  my  boy,  that  with  a  h\v  exceptions  every 
man  who  can  do  so  pays  his  debts  ;  the  torments  he  en- 
dures at  the  sight  of  his  creditor  would  constrain  him  to 
this,  even  without  the  terrors  of  the  law.  Glance  through 
the  ancient  and  modern  codes,  and  you  will  be  struck 
with  the  barbarous  egotism  which  has  dictated  them  all 
alike.  Can  one  imagine,  indeed,  any  punishment  more 
humiliating  than  that  of  a  debtor  kept  face  to  face  with 
his  creditor,  who  is  often  a  skinflint  to  whom  he  must 
cringe  with  fearful  deference?  Can  anything  be  more 
degrading  than  to  be  obliged  tc  keep  dodging  a  cred- 
itor ? 

"It  has  always  struck  me  that  civilization  warps 
men's  judgment,  and  makes  them  inferior  to  primitive 
races  in  mere  common  sense  and  simple  equity.  Let 
me  give  you  an  amusing  instance.  Some  years  ago,  in 
New  York,  an  Iroquois  was  gazing  intently  at  a  great, 
forbidding  structure.  Its  lofty  walls  and  iron-bound 
windows  interested  him  profoundly.  It  was  a  prison. 
A  magistrate  came  up. 

" '  Will  the  pale  face  tell  his  brother  what  this  great 
wigwam  is  for  ? '  asked  the  Indian.  The  citizen  swelled 
out  his  chest  and  answered  with  an  air  of  importance  ; 


I4S 


THE   CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


"  *  It  is  there  we  shut  up  the  red-skins  who  refuse  to 
pay  the  furs  which  they  owe  our  merchants.* 

"The  Iroqjois  examined  the  structure  with  ever- 
increasing  interest,  walked  around  it,  and  asked  to  see 
the  inside  of  this  marvelous  wigwam.  The  magistrate, 
who  was  himself  a  merchant,  was  glad  to  grant  his  re- 
quest, in  the  hope  of  inspiring  with  wholesome  dread 
the  other  savages,  to  whom  this  one  would  not  fail  to 
recount  the  effective  and  ingenious  methods  employed 
by  the  pale  faces  to  make  the  r^d-skins  pay  their  debts. 

"The  Iroquois  went  over  the  whole  building  with 
the  minutest  care,  descended  into  the  dungeons,  tried 
the  depth  of  the  wells,  listened  attentively  to  the  small- 
est sounds,  and  at  last  burst  out  laughing. 

"  *  Why,*  exclaimed  he,  *  no  Indian  could  catch  any 
beaver  here.* 

"  In  five  minutes  the  Indian  had  found  the  solution 
of  a  problem  which  civilized  man  has  not  had  the  com- 
mon sense  to  solve  in  centuries  of  study.  This  sim- 
ple and  unlearned  man,  unable  to  comprehend  such 
folly  on  the  part  of  a  civilized  race,  had  naturally  con- 
cluded that  the  prison  had  subterranean  canals  commu- 
nicating with  streams  and  lakes  where  beaver  were 
abundant,  and  that  the  savages  were  shut  up  therein  in 
order  to  facilitate  their  hunting  of  the  precious  animals, 
and  the  more  prompt  satisfaction  of  their  creditors* 
claims.  These  walls  and  iron  gratings  seemed  to  him 
intended  for  the  guarding  of  the  treasure  within. 

"  You  understand,  Jules,  that  I  am  speaking  to  you 
now  on  behalf  of  the  creditor,  who  gets  all  the  sympa- 
thy and  pity,  and  not  on  behalf  of  the  debtor  who,  with 
his  dread  and  suspicion  ever  before  his  eyes,  gnaws  his 
pillow  in  despair  after  watering  it  with  his  tears. 

"  I  was  young,  only  thirty- three  years  of  age.  I  had 
ability,  energy,  and  a  sturdy  faith  in  myself.     I  said  to 


<« 


THE  GOOD  gentleman:' 


149 


fuse  to 

1  ever- 
to  see 
istrate, 
his  re- 
dread 
fail  to 
ployed 
debts, 
g  with 
s,  tried 
small- 

ch  any 

olution 
e  corn- 
is  sim- 
d  such 
ly  con- 
ommu- 
r  were 
rein  in 
nimals, 
editors* 
to  him 

to  you 
sympa- 
D,  with 
Lws  his 

I  had 
aid  to 


i 


my  creditors,  take  all  I  have  but  leave  me  free,  and  I 
will  devote  every  energy  to  meeting  your  claims.  If 
you  imprison  me  you  wrong  yourselves.  Simple  as  was 
this  reasoning,  it  was  incomprehensible  to  civilized  man. 
My  Iroquois  would  have  understood  it  well  enough. 
He  would  have  said  :  *  My  brother  can  take  no  beaver 
if  the  pale  face  ties  his  hands.*  My  creditors,  however, 
took  no  account  of  such  simple  logic  as  this,  and  have 
held  the  sword  of  Damocles  over  my  head  for  thirty 
years,  the  limit  allowed  them  by  the  laws  of  France." 

*'  What  adorable  stupidity  !  "  cried  Jules. 

"  One  of  them,  however,"  continued  M.  d'Egmont, 
"  with  a  deligntful  ingenuity  of  torture,  obtained  a  war- 
rant for  my  arrest,  and  with  a  refinement  of  cruelty 
worthy  of  Caligula  himself,  did  not  put  it  in  execu- 
tion till  eighteen  months  later.  Picture  me  for  those 
eighteen  months,  surrounded  by  my  family,  who  had  to 
see  me  trembling  at  every  noise,  shuddering  at  the  sight 
of  every  stranger  who  might  prove  to  be  the  bearer  of 
the  order  for  my  imprisonment. 

"  So  unbearable  was  my  suspense  that  twice  I  sought 
out  my  creditor  and  besought  him  to  execute  his  war- 
rant without  delay.  At  last  he  did  so,  at  his  leisure.  I 
could  have  thanked  him  on  my  knees.  From  behind 
my  bars  I  could  defy  the  malice  of  men. 

"  During  the  first  month  of  his  captivity  the  prisoner 
experiences  a  feverish  restlessness,  a  need  of  continual 
movement.  He  is  like  a  caged  lion.  After  this  time  of 
trial,  this  feverish  disquiet,  I  attained  in  my  cell  the 
calm  of  one  who  after  being  tossed  violently  by  a  storm 
at  sea,  feels  no  longer  anything  more  than  the  throb  of 
the  subsiding  waves ;  for  apart  from  the  innumerable 
humiliations  of  imprisonment,  apart  from  my  grief  for 
my  family,  I  was  certainly  less  wretched.  I  believed 
that  I  had  drunk  the  last  drop  of  gall  from  the  cup 


\i 


^11 

nil 


11 


150 


TlfE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD,. 


which  man  holds  to  his  brother's  fevered  lips.  I  was 
reckoning  without  the  hand  of  God,  which  was  being 
made  heavy  for  the  insensate  fool  who  had  wrought  his 
own  misfortune.  Two  of  my  children,  at  two  different 
periods,  fell  so  dangerously  ill  that  the  doctors  gave  them 
up  and  daily  announced  to  me  that  the  end  was  near. 
It  was  then  I  felt  the  weight  of  my  chains.  It  was  then 
I  learned  to  cry,  like  the  mother  of  Christ,  *  Approach 
and  see  if  there  be  any  sorrow  like  unto  my  sorrow.*  I 
was  separated  from  my  children  only  by  the  breadth  of  a 
street.  During  the  long  night  watches  I  could  perceive 
the  stir  about  their  couch,  the  lights  moving  from  one 
room  to  another  ;  and  I  trembled  every  moment  lest  the 
stillness  should  fall  which  would  proclaim  them  no  long- 
er in  need  of  a  mother's  care.  I  blush  to  confess  that 
I  was  sometimes  tempted  to  dash  my  life  out  against  the 
bars. 

"Meanwhile  my  persecutor  knew  as  well  as  I  what 
was  passing  in  my  family.  But  pity  is  fled  from  the 
breast  of  man  to  take  refuge  in  brute  beasts  that  have 
no  understanding.  The  lamb  bleats  sadly  when  one  of 
his  companions  is  slaughtered,  the  ox  bellows  with  rage 
and  pain  when  he  smells  the  blood  of  his  kind,  the 
horse  snorts  sharply  and  utters  his  doleful  and  piercing 
cry  at  the  sight  of  his  fellow  struggling  in  the  final 
agony,  the  dog  howls  with  grief  when  his  master  is  sick  ; 
but  with  whisperings  and  gossip  and  furtive  pleasantry 
man  follows  his  brother  to  the  grave. 

"  Lift  up  your  head  in  your  pride,  lord  of  creation  ! 
You  have  the  right  to  do  so.  Lift  your  haughty  head 
to  heaven,  O  man  whose  heart  is  as  cold  as  the  gold 
you  grasp  at  day  and  night !  Heap  your  slanders  with 
both  hands  on  the  man  of  eager  heart,  of  ardent  pas- 
sions, of  blood  burning  like  fire,  who  has  fallen  in  his 
youth  !     Hold  high  your  head,  proud  Pharisee,  and  say, 


\ 


■i 


\ 


'*THE  GOOD  gentleman:* 


151 


I  was 
being 
ight  his 
iifferent 
ve  them 
IS  near, 
^as  then 
jproach 
ow.'  I 
dth  of  a 
)erceive 
om  one 
lest  the 
10  long- 
ess  that 
inst  the 

I  what 
:om  the 
at  have 
L  one  of 
ith  rage 
:nd,  the 
piercing 
le  final 
is  sick ; 
asantry 

eation  I 
ty  head 
lie  gold 
rs  with 
nt  pas- 
in  his 
tid  say, 


*  As  for  me,  I  have  never  fallen  ! '"  "  The  good  gentle- 
man '*  pressed  his  hands  to  his  heart,  kept  silent  for 
some  minutes,  and  at  length  resumed  : 

"  Pardon  me,  my  son,  that,  carried  away  by  the  mem- 
ory of  my  sufferings,  I  have  spoken  the  whole  bitterness 
of  my  heart.  It  was  but  seven  days  after  the  coming  of 
his  friends  when  the  great  Arabian  poet  Job,  the  singer 
of  so  many  sorrows,  broke  out  with  this  heart-rending 
cry,  *  Pereat  dies  in  qud  naius  sum  ! '  As  for  me,  these 
fifty  years  have  I  buried  my  lamentations  in  my  heart, 
and  you  will  pardon  me  if  I  have  spoken  now  with  bit- 
terness, if  I  have  calumniated  mankind. 

"  As  1  had  long  ago  given  up  to  my  creditors  all 
that  I  possessed,  and  had  sold  my  real  estate  and  per- 
sonal property  for  their  benefit,  after  four  years*  im- 
prisonment I  petitioned  the  King  for  my  release.  The 
Government  was  of  the  opinion  that  I  had  suffered 
enough,  but  there  remained  one  great  difficulty — when 
a  debtor  has  given  up  everything,  does  anything  yet  re- 
main ?  The  question  was  a  knotty  one.  Nevertheless, 
after  long  debate,  it  was  decided  in  the  negative,  and 
very  politely  they  showed  me  the  door. 

**  My  future  was  broken,  like  my  heart,  and  I  had 
nothing  to  do  but  vegetate  with,  at  profit  to  myself  or 
others.  But  observe  the  fatality  that  pursued  me.  When 
making  my  surrender  to  my  creditors  I  begged  them  to 
leave  me  a  certain  property  of  very  small  immediate 
value,  which  I  foresaw  that  I  might  turn  to  good  ac- 
count. I  promised  that  whatever  I  could  make  out  of 
it  should  go  to  wiping  out  the  debt.  They  laughed  me 
in  the  face ;  and  very  naturally,  for  there  was  a  beaver 
to  catch.  Well,  Jules,  this  same  property,  which  brought 
hardly  enough  to  cover  costs  of  sale,  sold  ten  years  later 
for  a  sum  which  would  have  covered  all  my  debts  and 
more. 


152 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


"  Europe  was  now  too  populous  for  me,  and  I  em- 
barked with  my  faithful  Andr6  for  New  France.  I 
chose  out  this  peaceful  dwelling  place,  where  I  might 
have  lived  happily  could  I  have  drunk  the  waters  of 
Lethe.  The  ancients,  our  superiors  in  pcint  of  imagi- 
nation, knew  the  needs  of  the  human  heart  when  they 
created  that  stream.  Long  tainted  with  the  errors  of  the 
sixteenth  century,  I  used  once  to  cry  in  my  p*Ide,  *  O 
men,  if  I  have  shared  your  vices-  I  have  found  few 
among  you  endowed  with  even  one  of  my  virtues.* 
But  religion  has  taught  me  to  know  myself  better,  and 
I  have  humbled  myself  beneath  God's  nand,  convinced 
at  length  that  I  could  claim  but  little  credit  for  merely 
following  the  inclinations  of  my  nature. 

**  You  are  the  only  one ,  Jules,  to  whom  I  have  hinted 
the  story  of  my  life,  suppressing  the  cruelest  episodes 
because  I  know  the  tenderness  of  your  heart.  My  end 
is  attained  ;  let  us  now  go  and  finish  the  evening 
with  my  faithful  Andr^,  who  will  keenly  appreciate  this 
attention  on  the  eve  of  your  departure." 

When  they  re-entered  the  house  Andr^  was  making 
up  a  bed  on  a  sofa,  a  piece  of  furniture  which  was  the 
result  of  the  combined  skill  of  master  and  man.  This 
sofa,  of  which  they  were  both  very  proud,  had  one  leg 
shorter  than  the  others,  but  this  little  inconvenience  was 
remedied  with  the  aid  of  a  chip. 

"  This  sofa,"  said  "  the  good  gentleman,"  with  an  air 
of  pride,  "  has  cost  Andr^  and  me  more  elaborate  calcu- 
lations than  Perrault  required  for  the  construction  of  the 
Louvre  ;  but  we  accomplished  it  at  last  to  our  satisfac- 
tion. One  leg,  to  be  sure,  presents  arms  to  all  comers. 
But  what  work  is  perfect  ?  You  must  have  remembered, 
my  Andre,  that  this  camp-bed  was  to  be  a  soldiers* 
couch." 

Andr^,  though  not  quite  relishing  this  pleasantry, 


<< 


THE  GOOD  gentleman:' 


153 


which  jarred  a  little  on  his  vanity,  nevertheless  could 
not  help  laughing. 

Late  in  the  evening  M.  d'Egmont  handed  Jules  a 
little  silver  candlestick  exquisitely  wrought. 

"  There,  my  dear  boy,  is  all  that  my  creditors  have 
left  me  of  my  ancient  fortune.  They  intended  it,  I  sup- 
pose, to  solace  my  sleepless  nights.  Good-night,  dear 
boy ;  one  sleeps  well  at  your  age  ;  and  when,  after  my 
prayers  beneath  the  vault  of  that  great  temple  which  is 
forever  declaring  the  glory  of  God,  I  once  more  coime 
under  my  roof,  you  will  be  deep  in  your  slumbers," 


CHAPTER   XI. 

MADAME    d'hABERVILLE'S   STORY. 

Saepd  malum  hoc  nobis,  si  mens  non  laeva  fuisset, 
De  ccelo  tactas  memini  praedicere  quercus. 

Virgil. 

All  was  silence  and  gloom  at  D'Haberville  Manor ; 
the  very  servants  went  about  their  work  with  a  spiritless 
air,  far  unlike  their  usual  gayety.  Madame  d'Haberville 
choked  back  her  tears  that  she  might  not  add  to  her 
husband's  grief,  and  Blanche,  for  her  mother's  sake,  did 
her  weeping  in  secret  ;  for  in  three  days  the  vessel  was 
to  set  sail.  Captain  d'Haberville  had  bidden  his  two 
friends,  the  priest  and  M.  d'Egmont,  to  meet  Jules 
and  Archie  at  a  farewell  dinner.  At  this  meal  every 
one  strove  to  be  cheerful,  but  the  attempt  was  a  con- 
spicuous failure.  The  priest,  wisely  concluding  that 
a  sober  conversation  would  be  better  than  the  sorrowful 
silence  into  which  the  party  was  continually  dropping, 
introduced  a  subject  which  was  beginning  to  press  on 
all  thoughtful  minds. 

*'  Do  you  know,  gentlemen,"  said  he,  "  that  a  storm 
is  gathering  dark  on  the  horizon  of  New  France.  The 
English  are  making  tremendous  preparations,  and  every- 
thing seems  to  indicate  an  early  attack." 

*' And  then  ?"  exclaimed  Uncle  Raoul. 

"  Then,  whatever  you  like,  my  dear  chevalier," 
answered  the  cur^  ;  "  but  it  must  be  acknowledged  that 


i 


ri 


MADAME  jyHABERVILLE'S  STORY, 


155 


we  have  hardly  forces  enough  at  our  command  to  long 
resist  our  powerful  neighbors." 

**  My  dear  abb^,"  exclaimed  Uncle  Raoul,  "  I  think 
that  in  your  reading  this  morning  you  must  have 
stumbled  on  a  chapter  of  the  lamentations  of  Jere- 
miah." 

"  I  might  turn  your  weapon  against  yourself,"  re- 
torted the  priest,  "  by  reminding  you  that  those  prophe- 
cies were  fulfilled." 

**  No  matter,"  almost  shouted  Uncle  Raoul,  clinch- 
ing his  teeth.  "  The  English,  indeed  !  The  English 
take  Canada !  By  heaven,  I  would  undertake  to  defend 
Quebec  with  my  crutch.  You  forget,  it  seems,  that  we 
have  always  beaten  the  English ;  that  we  have  beaten 
them  against  all  odds — five  to  one — ten  to  one — some- 
times twenty  to  one  !     The  English,  indeed  !  " 

"  Concedo''  said  the  cur^  ;  "  I  am  ready  to  grant  all 
you  claim,  and  more  too  if  you  like.  But  mark  this. 
We  grow  weaker  and  weaker  with  every  victory,  while 
the  enemy,  thanks  to  the  foresight  of  England,  rises 
with  new  strength  from  each  defeat ;  meanwhile,  France 
leaves  us  to  our  own  resources." 

"  Which  shows,"  exclaimed  Captain  d'Haberville, 
"the  faith  our  King  reposes  in  our  courage." 

"Meanwhile,"  interposed  M.  d'Egmont,  "he  sends 
us  so  few  soldiers  that  the  colony  grows  weaker  day 
by  day." 

"  Give  us  but  plenty  o  powder  and  lead,"  answered 
the  captain,  "  and  a  hundred  of  my  militia  will  do  more 
in  such  a  war  as  that  which  is  coming  upon  us — a  war 
of  reconnoitrings,  ambuscades,  and  surprises — than  would 
five  hundred  of  the  best  soldiers  of  France.  I  speak 
from  experience.  For  all  4hat,  however,  we  stand  in 
great  need  of  help  from  the  mother  country.  Would 
that  a  few  of  those  battalions  which  our  beloved  mon- 


56 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD, 


arch  pours  into  the  north  of  Europe  to  fight  the  battles 
of  Austria,  might  be  devoted  to  the  defense  of  the  col- 
ony." 

*' You  might  rather  wish,"  said  "  the  good  gentleman," 
**  that  Louis  XV  had  left  Maria  Theresa  to  fight  it  out 
with  Prussia,  and  had  paid  a  little  more  attention  to 
New  France." 

"  It  is  perhaps  hardly  becoming  in  a  young  man  like 
me,"  said  Lochiel,  "to  mix  myself  up  in  your  argu- 
ments ;  but,  to  make  up  for  my  lack  of  experience,  I 
will  call  history  to  my  aid.  Beware  of  the  English, 
beware  of  a  government  ever  alive  to  the  interests  of  its 
colonies,  which  it  identifies  with  the  interests  of  the  em- 
pire ;  beware  of  a  nation  which  has  the  tenacity  of  the 
bull-dog.  If  the  conquest  of  Canada  is  necessary  to  her 
she  will  never  swerve  from  her  purpose  or  count  the 
sacrifice.     "Witness  my  unhappy  country." 

"  Bah !  "  cried  Uncle  Raoul,  '*  the  Scotch,  in- 
deed !  " 

Lochiel  began  to  laugh. 

"  Gently,  my  dear  Uncle  Raoul,"  said  '*  the  good  gen- 
tleman " ;  '*  and,  to  make  use  of  your  favorite  maxim 
when  you  are  collecting  the  rents,  let  us  render  unto 
Caesar  that  which  is  Caesar's.  I  have  studied  the  his- 
tory of  Scotland,  and  I  can  assure  you  that  neither  in 
valor  nor  in  patriotism  need  the  Scotch  yield  place  to 
any  other  nation,  ancient  or  modern." 

"  Oh,  you  see,  I  only  wanted  to  tease  this  other 
nephew  of  mine,"  exclaimed  Uncle  Raoul,  swelling  his 
chest ;  "  for  we  know  a  little  history  ourselves,  thank 
God.  No  one  knows  better  than  Archie  my  esteem  for 
his  fellow-countrymen,  and  my  admiration  for  their  dash- 
ing courage." 

"  Yes,  dear  uncle,  and  I  thank  you  for  it,"  said  Ar- 
chie, grasping  him  by  the  hand  ;  "  but  distrust  the  Eng- 


MADAME  D'HABERVILLKS  STORY. 


157 


in- 


lish  profoundly.  Beware  of  their  perseverance,  and  re- 
member the  Delenda  est  Carthago  of  the  Romans." 

**  So  much  the  better,"  said  Jules.  "I  will  be  grate- 
ful to  their  perseverance  if  it  brings  me  back  to  Canada 
with  my  regiment.  May  I  do  my  first  fighting  against 
them  here,  on  this  soil  of  Canada,  which  I  love  and 
which  holds  all  that  is  dearest  to  me  !  You  shall  come 
with  me,  my  brother,  and  shall  take  revenge  in  this  new 
v/orld  for  all  that  you  have  suffered  in  your  own  couii' 
try." 

"With  all  my  heart,"  cried  Archie,  grasping  the  han- 
dle of  his  knife  ns  if  it  were  the  terrible  claymore  of  the 
Camerons.  "  I  will  serve  as  a  volunteer  in  your  com- 
pany, if  I  can  not  get  a  commission  as  an  officer ;  and 
the  simple  soldier  will  be  as  proud  of  your  exploits  as  if 
he  had  a  hand  in  them  himself." 

The  young  men  warmed  into  excitement  at  the 
thought  of  heroic  deeds  ;  the  great  black  eyes  of  Jules 
shot  fire,  and  the  old  warlike  ardor  of  the  race  suddenly 
flamed  out  in  him.  This  spirit  was  infectious,  and  from 
all  lips  came  the  cry  of  Vive  le  Roi!  From  the  eyes  of 
mother,  sister,  and  aunt,  in  spite  of  all  their  efforts  to 
restrain  them,  there  escaped  a  few  tears  silently. 

The  conversation  became  eager.  Campaigns  were 
were  planned,  the  English  were  beaten  by  sea  and  land, 
and  Canada  was  set  upon  a  pinnacle  of  splendor  and 
prosperity. 

"  Fill  up  your  glasses,"  cried  Captain  d'Haberville, 
pouring  himself  out  a  bumper.  "  I  am  going  to  propose 
a  health  which  everybody  will  drink  with  applause  : 
'  Success  to  our  arms  ;  and  may  the  glorious  flag  of  the 
fleur-de-lys  float  forever  over  every  fortress  of  New 
France ! ' " 

Just  as  they  were  raising  the  glasses  to  their  lips 
a  terrific   report  was   heard.     It   was  like  a  stupend- 


j/*. 


158 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


ous  clap  of  thunder,  or  as  if  some  huge  body  had 
fallen  upon  the  manor  house,  which  shook  to  its  very 
foundations.  Every  one  rushed  out  of  doors.  The 
sun  was  shining  with  all  the  brilliance  of  a  perfect  day 
in  July.  They  scaled  the  roof,  but  there  was  no  sign 
anywhere  that  the  house  had  been  struck.  Every  one 
was  stupefied  with  awe,  the  seigneur  himself  appearing 
particularly  impressed.  "  Can  it  be,"  he  exclaimed, 
*'  that  this  phenomenon  presages  the  fall  of  my  house  !  " 

In  vain  did  M.  d'Egmont,  the  priest,  and  Uncle 
Raoul  endeavor  to  refer  the  phenomenon  to  ordinary 
causes ;  they  could  not  remove  the  painful  impression  it 
had  left.  The  glasses  were  left  unemptied  in  the  din- 
ing-room, and  the  little  company  passed  into  the  draw- 
ing-room to  take  their  coffee. 

What  took  place  afterward-  only  confirmed  the  D'Ha- 
berville  family  in  their  superstitious  fears.  Who  knows, 
after  all,  whether  such  omens,  to  which  the  ancient 
world  lent  implicit  belief,  may  not  indeed  be  warnings 
from  heaven  when  some  great  evil  threatens  us  .-*  If,  in- 
deed, we  must  reject  all  that  our  feeble  reason  compre- 
hends not,  we  should  speedily  become  Pyrrhonists,  utter 
skeptics,  like  Moli^re's  Marphorius.  Who  knows  ? 
But  one  might  write  a  whole  chapter  on  this  **  who 
knows." 

The  weather,  which  had  been  so  fine  all  day,  began 
to  cloud  UP  toward  six  o'clock  in  the  evening.  By  seven 
the  rain  fell  in  torrents ;  the  thunder  seemed  to  shatter 
the  vault  of  heaven,  and  a  great  mass  of  rock,  struck  by 
a  thunder-bolt,  fell  from  the  bluff"  with  terrific  noise  and 
obliterated  the  highway. 

Captain  d'Haberville,  who  had  carried  on  an  im- 
mense deal  of  forest  warfare  along  with  his  Indian  allies, 
had  become  tinctured  with  many  of  their  superstitions  ; 
and  when  the  disasters  of  i7'>Q  fell  upon  him,  he  was 


Hk^' 


MADAME  UIIABERVILLE'S  STORY. 


159 


convinced  that  they  had  been  foretold  to  him  two  years 
before. 

Jules,  seated  at  supper  between  his  mother  and  sis- 
ter and  holding  their  hands  in  his,  shared  in  their  de- 
pression. In  order  to  turn  their  thoughts  into  another 
channel,  he  asked  his  mother  to  tell  one  of  those  stories 
with  which  she  used  to  amuse  his  childhood. 

"  It  would  give  me,"  said  he,  *'  yet  another  memory 
of  the  tenderest  of  mothers  to  take  with  me  to  Europe. ' 

"  I  can  refuse  my  boy  nothing,"  said  Madame  cFHa- 
berville  ;  and  she  began  the  following  story  : 

"  A  mother  had  an  only  child,  a  little  girl,  fair  as  a 
lily,  whose  great  blue  eyes  wandered  from  her  mother 
to  heaven  and  back  from  heaven  lo  h';r  mother,  only  to 
fix  themselves  on  heaven  at  last.  How  proud  and  happy 
was  this  loving  mother  when  every  one  praised  the 
beauty  of  her  child !  Her  cheeks  like  the  rose  just 
blown,  her  tresses  fair  and  soft  as  the  beaten  flax  and 
falling  over  her  snoulders  in  gracious  waves  !  Immeas- 
urably happy  was  this  good  mother. 

"  At  last  she  lust  the  child  she  idolized ;  and,  like 
Rachel,  she  would  not  be  comforted  She  passed  her 
days  in  the  cemetery  embracing  the  I'ttle  grave.  Mad 
with  grief,  she  kept  calling  to  the  child  with  ceaseless 
pleadings  : 

"  *  My  darling  !  my  darling  !  listen  to  your  mother, 
who  is  come  to  carry  you  to  your  own  bed,  where  you 
shall  sleep  so  warmly  !  Oh,  how  cold  you  must  be  un- 
der the  wet  sod  ! ' 

"  She  kept  her  ear  close  to  the  earth,  as  if  she  expect- 
ed a  response.  She  trembled  at  every  slightest  noise, 
and  sobbed  to  discover  that  it  was  but  the  murmur  of  the 
weeping  willow  moved  by  the  breeze.  The  passers-by 
used  to  say  :  *  This  grass,  so  incessantly  watered  by  her 
weeping,  should  be  always  green  ;  but  her  tears  are  so 


WW 


i6o 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


bitter  that  they  wither  it,  even  like  the  fierce  sun  of  mid- 
day after  a  heavy  shower.' 

"  She  wept  beside  a  brook  where  the  little  one  had 
been  accustomed  to  play  with  pebbles,  and  in  whose 
pure  stream  she  had  so  often  washed  the  little  feet.  The 
passers-by  used  to  say  : 

"  *  This  mother  sheds  so  many  tears  that  she  swells 
the  current  of  the  stream  ! ' 

"  She  nursed  her  grief  in  every  room  wherein  the  lit- 
tle one  had  played.  She  opened  the  trunk  in  which  she 
kept  religiously  all  the  cliild's  belongings — its  clothes, 
its  playthings,  the  little  gold-lined  cup  of  silver  from 
which  she  had  last  given  it  to  drink.  Passionately  she 
kissed  the  little  shoes,  and  her  sobs  would  have  melted 
a  heart  of  steel. 

"  She  went  continually  to  the  village  church  to  pray, 
to  implore  God  to  work  one  miracle  in  her  behalf,  and 
give  her  back  her  child.  And  the  voice  of  God  seemed 
to  answer  her  : 

"  *  Like  David  you  shall  go  to  her,  but  she  shall  not 
return  to  you.* 

"  Then  she  would  cry  : 

**  *  When,  Lord,  when  shall  such  joy  be  mine  "i  * 

**  She  threw  herself  down  before  the  image  of  the 
blessed  Virgin,  our  Lady  of  Sorrows  ;  and  it  seemed  to 
her  that  the  eyes  of  the  Madonna  rested  upon  her  sadly* 
and  that  she  read  in  them  these  words  : 

"  *  Endure  with  patience,  even  as  I  have  done,  O 
daughter  of  Eve,  till  the  day  when  your  mourning  shall 
be  turned  into  gladness.' 

And  the  unhappy  mother  cried  anew : 
But  when,  when  will  that  blessed  day  come,  O 
Mother  of  God.?'  »+..  . 

*'  One  day  the  wretched  mother,  having  prayed  with 
more  than  her  usual  fervor,  having  shed,  if  possible, 


« 


U  ( 


MADAME  D'HABERVILLES  STORY. 


I6l 


more  tears  than  was  her  wont,  fell  asleep  in  the  church, 
exhausted  with  her  grief.  The  sexton  shut  the  doors 
without  noticing  ler.  It  must  have  been  about  mid- 
night when  she  awoke.  A  ray  of  moonlight  illuminating 
the  altar  revealed  to  her  that  she  was  yet  in  the  church. 
Far  from  being  terrified,  she  rather  rejoiced  at  her  situa- 
tion, if  such  a  thing  as  joy  could  be  said  to  find  any 
place  in  her  sad  heart. 

" '  Now,'  said  she,  *  I  can  pray  alone  with  God,  alone 
with  the  Blessed  Virgin,  alone  with  myself !  ' 

"Just  as  she  was  going  to  kneel  down  a  low  sound 
made  her  raise  her  head. 

"  She  saw  an  old  man,  who,  entering  by  one  of  the 
side  doors  of  the  sacristy,  made  his  way  to  the  altar 
with  a  lighted  taper  in  his  hand.  She  saw  with  astonish- 
ment that  it  was  the  former  sexton,  dead  twenty  years 
before.  She  felt  no  fear  at  the  sight,  for  every  senti- 
ment of  her  breast  had  been  swallowed  up  in  grief. 
The  specter  climbed  the  altar  steps,  lighted  the  candles, 
and  made  the  customary  preparations  for  the  celebra- 
tion of  a  requiem  mass.  When  he  turned  she  saw  that 
his  eyes  were  fixed  and  expressionless,  like  those  of  a 
statue.  He  re-entered  the  sacristy,  but  reappeared  al- 
most at  once,  followed  this  time  by  a  venerable  priest 
bearing  a  chalice  and  clothed  in  full  vestments.  His 
great  eyes,  wide  open,  were  filled  with  sadness  ;  his 
movements  were  like  those  of  an  automaton.  She  rec- 
ognized the  old  pricsf,  twenty  years  dead,  who  had 
baptized  her  and  given  her  her  first  communion.  Far 
from  being  terrified  (>y  this  marvel,  the  poor  mother, 
wrapped  up  in  her  sorrow,  ronduded  that  her  old  friend 
had  been  touched  by  her  despair,  and  had  broken  the 
bonds  of  the  sepulchre  for  her  sake. 

*'  All  was  somber,  grim,  and  silent  in  this  mass  thus 

celebrated  and  ministered  by  the  dead.     The  candles 
II 


l62 


THR  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


cast  a  feeble  light  like  that  of  a  dying  lamp.  At  the  mo- 
ment when  the  bell  of  the  *  Sanctu^J  striking  with  a  dull 
sound,  as  when  a  bone  is  broken  by  the  grave-digger  in 
some  old  cemetery,  announced  the  descent  of  Christ 
upon  the  altar,  the  door  of  the  sacristy  opened  anew 
and  admitted  a  procession  of  little  children,  marching 
two  and  two,  who  traversed  the  choir  and  filed  into  the 
space  to  the  right  of  the  altar.  These  children,  the  old- 
est of  whom  had  had  scarce  six  years  of  life  upon 
earth,  vv'ore  crowns  of  immortelles  and  carried  in  their 
hands,  some  of  them  baskets  of  flowers,  some  of  them  lit- 
tle vases  of  perfume,  others  cups  of  gold  and  silver  filled 
with  a  transparent  liquid.  They  stepped  lightly,  and  a 
celestial  rapture  shone  upon  their  faces.  One  only,  a 
little  girl  at  the  end  of  the  procession,  appeared  to  fol- 
low the  others  painfully,  loaded  down  as  she  was  with 
two  great  jars  which  she  could  hardly  drag.  Her  little 
feet,  reddening  under  the  pressure,  were  lifted  heavily, 
and  her  crown  of  immortelles  seemed  withered.  The 
poor  mother  strove  to  reach  out  her  arms,  to  utter  a  cry 
of  joy  on  recognizing  her  own  little  one,  but  she  found 
that  she  could  neither  move  nor  speak.  She  watched 
all  the  children  file  past  her  into  the  place  to  the  left  of 
the  altar,  and  she  recognized  several  who  had  but  lately 
died.  When  her  own  child,  bending  under  her  burden, 
passed  before  her,  she  noticed  that  at  every  step  the  two 
jars  besprinkled  the  floor  with  the  water  that  filled 
them  to  the  brim.  When  the  little  one's  eyes  met  those 
of  her  mother,  she  saw  in  their  depths  a  mingling  of 
sadness,  tenderness,  and  reproach.  The  poor  woman 
strove  to  clasp  her  in  her  arms,  but  sight  and  conscious- 
ness alike  fled  from  her.  When  she  recovered  from  her 
swoon  the  church  was  empty. 

**  In  a  monastery  about  a  league  from  the  village, 
dwelt  a  monk  who  was  renowned  for  his  sanctity. 


I 


MADAME  UHABERVILLE'S  STORY. 


163 


the  mo- 
i  a  dull 
gger  in 
■  Christ 
d  anew 
arching 
nto  the 
the  old- 
"e  upon 
in  their 
hem  lit- 
er filled 
,  and  a 
only,  a 

to  fol- 
^as  with 
er  little 
heavily, 
I.  The 
jr  a  cry 
e  found 
v^atched 

left  of 
it  lately 
burden, 
the  two 
It  filled 
2t  those 
;ling  of 
woman 
iscious- 
rom  her 

village, 


I 


*'  This  old  man  never  left  his  cell,  save  to  listen  with 
sympathy  to  the  bitter  confessions  of  sinners,  or  to  suc- 
cor the  afflicted.     To  the  first  he  said  : 

*' '  I  know  the  corruptness  of  man's  nature,  so  be  not 
cast  down  ;  come  to  me  with  confidence  and  courage 
every  time  you  fall,  and  my  arms  shall  ever  be  open  to 
lift  you  up  again.' 

*'  To  the  second  he  said :  *  Since  God,  who  is  so 
good,  lays  this  burden  upon  you  now,  he  is  reserving 
you  for  infinite  joys  hereafter.' 

"  To  all  he  said :  '  If  I  should  confess  to  you  the 
story  of  \vi%  life,  you  would  be  astonished  to  behold  in 
me  a  man  who  has  been  the  sport  of  unbridled  passion, 
and  my  misfortunes  would  melt  you  to  tears.' 

"The  poor  mother  threw  herself  sobbing  at  his  feet, 
and  told  him  the  marvelous  thing  she  had  seen.  The 
compassionate  ol.l  man,  who  had  sounded  the  depths  of 
the  human  heart,  beheld  here  a  favorable  opportunity 
to  set  bounds  to  this  excessive  anguish. 

"'  My  dear  child,*  said  he,  'our  overwrought  imagi- 
nation often  cheats  us  with  illusions  which  must  be  rele- 
gated to  the  realms  of  dream.  Nevertheless,  the  Church 
teaches  us  that  such  marvels  can  really  take  place.  It 
is  not  for  us  in  onr  ignorance  to  set  limit  to  the  power 
of  God.  It  is  not  '  »r  us  to  question  the  decrees  of  Him 
who  took  the  worlds  into  his  hand  and  launched  them 
into  space.  I  accept,  then,  the  vision,  and  I  will  explain 
it  to  yoM.  This  priest,  coming  from  the  tomb  to  say  a 
mass,  doubtless  obtained  God's  permission  to  fulfill  part 
of  his  sacred  ministry  which  he  had  left  undone ;  and 
the  sexton,  by  forgetfulne^  or  negligence,  was  proba- 
bly the  cause  of  his  omission.  The  children  crowned 
with  immortelles  are  those  who  died  with  their  baptis- 
mal grace  unimpaired.  They  who  carried  baskets  of 
flower'    or  vases  of  perfume  are   those  whose   mothers 


1 64 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


gave  them  up  to  God  with  holy  resignation,  comforted 
by  the  thought  that  they  were  exchanging  this  world 
of  pain  for  the  celestial  country  and  the  ineffable  light 
about  the  throne.  In  the  little  cups  of  gold  and  silver 
were  the  tears  of  mothers  who,  though  torn  by  the  an- 
guish of  their  loss  yet  taught  themselves  to  cry  :  **  The 
Lord  gave  and  the  Lord  hath  taken  away ;  blessed  be  the 
name  of  the  Lord."  * 

*'  On  her  knees  the  poor  mother  drank  in  the  old 
man's  words.  As  Martha  exclaimed  at  the  feet  of  Christ, 
*  Lord,  if  thou  hadst  been  here,  my  brother  had  not 
died.  "Rut  I  know  that  even  now,  whatever  thou  wilt 
ask  of  God,  God  will  give  it  thee,'  even  so  the  poor 
mother  cried  in  her  ardent  faith,  *  If  thou  hadst  been 
with  me,  my  father,  my  little  one  would  not  have  died  ; 
but  I  know  that  even  now,  whatsoever  thou  wilt  ask  of 
God,  God  will  give  it  thee.* 

"  The  good  monk  reflected  a  moment  and  prayed 
God  for  wisdom.  It  was  a  sentence  of  life  or  of  death 
that  he  was  about  to  pronounce  upon  this  mother  who 
appeared  inconsolable.  He  was  about  to  strike  a  blow 
which  should  eitner  restore  her  to  reason  or  break  her 
heart  forever.  He  took  her  hands  in  his  withered  and 
trembling  clasp,  and  said  gently  : 

"  *  You  loved,  then,  this  child  whom  you  have 
lost  ? ' 

" '  Loved  her  ?  My  God,  what  a  question  !  *  And 
she  threw  herself  moaning  at  his  feet.  Then,  raising 
hersel*  suddenly,  she  grasped  the  skirt  of  his  cassock 
and  besought  him  through  her  sobs:  'You  are  a  saint, 
my  father  ;  oh,  give  me  back  my  child — my  darling  ! ' 

" '  Yes,'  said  the  monk,  *  you  loved  your  little  one. 
Doubtless  you  woi.Ui  have  done  much  to  spare  her  even 
the  lightest  grief  }* 

Anything,  everything,  my  father  !  *  exclaimed  the 


i(  ( 


MADAME  EfHABERVILLES  STORY. 


165 


poor  woman ;  *  I  would  have  been  ioUed  on  the  hot 
coals  to  spare  her  a  little  burn.* 

'*  *  I  believe  you,'  said  the  monk ;  *  and  doubtless 
you  love  her  yet  ?  * 

"  '  Do  I  love  her  ?  Merciful  Heaven  ! '  cried  the 
wretched  mother,  springing  to  her  feet  as  if  bitten  by  a 
serpent ;  *  I  see,  priest,  that  you  know  little  of  a  moth- 
er's love  if  you  imagine  death  can  efface  it.'  And  trem- 
bling from  head  to  foot,  she  burst  again  into  a  torrent  of^ 
tears. 

"  '  Begone,  woman,'  said  the  old  man,  forcing  him- 
self to  speak  with  sternness  ;  *  begone,  woman,  who  hast 
come  to  impose  upon  me  ;  begone,  woman,  who  liest  to 
God  and  to  his  priest.  Thou  hast  seen  thy  little  one 
staggering  under  the  burden  of  thy  tears,  which  she 
gathers  drop  by  drop,  and  thou  tellest  me  that  thou 
lovest  her !  She  is  near  thee  now,  toiling  at  her  task  ; 
and  thou  sayest  that  thou  lovest  her !  Begone,  woman, 
for  thou  liest  to  God  and  to  his  minister  !  * 

"  The  eyes  of  the  poor  woman  were  opened  as  if  she 
were  awaking  from  a  frightful  dream.  She  confessed 
that  her  grief  had  been  insensate,  and  she  besought  the 
pardon  of  God. 

**  *  Go  in  peace,*  said  the  old  man  ;  *  resign  yourself 
to  God's  will,  and  the  peace  of  God  will  be  shed  upon 
your  soul.' 

"  Some  days  after,  she  told  the  good  monk  that  her 
little  one,  radiant  with  joy  and  carrying  a  basket  of 
flowers,  had  appeared  to  her  in  a  dream  and  thanked 
her  for  having  ceased  from  her  tears.  The  good  woman, 
who  was  rich  in  this  world's  goods,  devoted  the  rest  of 
days  and  her  substance  to  charity.  To  the  children  of 
the  poor  she  gave  most  loving  attention,  and  adopted 
several  of  them.  When  she  died  they  wrote  upon  her 
tomb,  *  Here  lies  the  mother  of  the  orphans.' 


c 


>  >» 


i66 


THE   CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


All  were  deeply  moved  by  Madame  d'Haberville's 
story,  and  some  were  even  in  tears.  Jules  embraced 
his  mother,  and  left  the  room  to  hide  his  emotion. 

"  O  God,"  he  cried,  "  guard  this  life  of  mine  !  for  if 
evil  should  befall  me,  my  loving  mother  would  be  as  in- 
consolable as  the  mother  in  the  story  she  has  just  told 
us." 

A  day  or  two  later  Jules  and  Archie  were  tossing 
.upon  the  Atlantic ;  and  at  the  end  of  two  months,  after 
a  prosperous  voyage,  they  reached  the  shores  of  France. 


irville's 

braced 

1. 

!  for  if 

J  as  in- 

ist  told 


tossing 

s,  after 

ranee. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

THE  BURNING  OF  THE  SOUTH  SHORE. 

They  came  upon  us  in  the  night, 

And  brake  my  bower  and  slew  my  Icnight :  " 

My  servant  a'  for  life  did  flee 

And  left  us  in  the  extremitie. 

They  slew  my  knight,  to  me  so  dear  ; 
They  slew  my  knight,  and  drove  his  gear  ; 
The  moon  may  set,  the  sun  may  rise, 
But  a  deadly  sleep  has  closed  his  eyes. 

Waverley. 

The  trees  were  once  more  clothed  in  their  wonted 
green  after  the  passing  of  a  northern  winter.  The 
woods  and  fields  were  enameled  in  a  thousand  colors, 
and  the  birds  were  raising  their  cheerful  voices  to  greet 
the  spring  of  the  year  1759.  All  Nature  smiled;  only 
man  seemed  sorrowful  and  cast  down  ;  and  the  laborer 
no  more  lifted  his  gay  song,  and  the  greater  portion  of 
the  lands  lay  fallow  for  lack  of  hands  to  till  them.  A 
cloud  hung  over  all  New  France,  for  the  mother  country, 
a  veritable  step-mother,  had  abandoned  her  Canadian 
children.  Left  to  its  own  resources,  the  Government 
had  called  to  arms  every  able-bodied  man  to  defend  the 
colony  against  the  invasion  that  menaced  it.  The  Eng- 
lish had  made  vast  preparations.  Their  fleet,  consisting 
of  twenty  ships  of  the  line,  ten  frigates,  and  eighteen 
smaller  vessels,  accompanied  by  a  number  of  transports, 
and  carrying  eighteen  thousand  men,  was  ascending  the 


i68 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD, 


\ 


St.  Lawrence  under  the  command  of  General  Wolfe ; 
while  two  land  armies,  yet  more  numerous,  were  moving 
to  effect  a  junction  under  the  very  walls  of  Quebec. 

The  whole  adult  population  of  Canada  capable  of 
bearing  arms  had  responded  with  ardor  to  their  country's 
appeal;  and  there  remained  at  home  none  but  the  old 
and  feeble,  the  women  jnd  the  children.  To  resist  an 
army  more  numerous  than  tiic  ?rtire  population  of  New 
France  the  Canadians  had  littlt  but  the  memory  of  past 
exploits,  and  of  their  glorious  victory  at  Carillon  in  the 
preceding  year.  Of  what  avail  their  proved  courage 
against  an  enemy  so  overpowering  and  sworn  to  their 
defeat  ? 

You  have  long  been  misunderstood,  my  brethren  of 
old  Canada  !  Most  cruelly  have  you  been  slandered. 
Honor  to  them  who  have  lifted  your  memory  from  the 
dust !  Honor,  a  hundred  times  honor,  to  our  fellow- 
countryman,  M.  Garneau,  who  has  rent  the  vail  that 
covered  your  exploits  !  Shame  to  us  who,  instead  of 
searching  the  ancient  and  glorious  annals  of  our  race, 
were  content  to  bow  before  the  reproach  that  we  were 
a  conquered  people  !  Shame  to  us  who  were  almost 
ashamed  to  call  ourselves  Canadians  !  Dreadmg  to  con- 
fess ourselves  ignorant  of  the  history  of  Assyrians, 
Medes,  and  Persians,  that  of  our  own  country  remained 
a  sealed  book  to  us. 

Within  the  last  few  years  there  has  come  a  glorious 
reaction.  Every  one  sets  his  hand  to  the  work  and  the 
Canadian  can  now  say  with  Francis  I,  "  All  is  lost  save 
honor."  I  am  far  from  believing,  however,  that  all  is 
lost.  The  cession  of  Canada  was,  perhaps,  a  blessing  in 
disguise  ;  for  the  horrors  of  '93  failed  to  touch  this  fortu- 
nate colony  which  was  protected  by  the  flag  of  Britain. 
We  have  gathered  new  laurels,  fighting  beneath  the  ban- 
ner of  England  •  and  twice  has  the  colony  been  saved  to 


\ 


THE  BURNING  OF   THE  SOUTH  SHORE. 


169 


Wolfe  ; 
moving 
ec. 

able  of 
untry's 
;he  old 
:sist  an 
)f  New 
of  past 
I  in  the 
:ourage 
o  their 

hren  of 
idered. 
om  the 
fellow- 
il  that 
Lead  of 
r  race, 
'^e  were 
almost 
to  con- 
lyrians, 
[nained 

lorious 
md  the 
St  save 
:  all  is 
sing  in 
fortu- 
iritain. 
le  ban- 
,ved  to 


England  by  the  courage  of  her  new  subjects.  In  Parlia" 
ment,  at  the  bar,  upon  the  field  of  battle,  everywhere  in 
his  small  sphere,  the  French  Canadian  has  proved  him- 
self inferior  to  none.  For  a  century  have  you  struggled, 
0  my  countrymen,  to  preserve  your  nationality,  and 
you  behold  it  yet  intact.  The  future  perhaps  holds  for 
you  another  century  01  effort  and  struggle  to  guard  it. 
Take  heart  and  stand  together,  fellow-countrymen. 

Two  detachments  of  the  English  army  were  disem- 
barked at  Riviere  Quelle,  at  the  beginning  of  June,  '79. 
Some  of  the  habitants  of  the  parish,  concealed  in  the 
skirts  of  the  wood,  received  them  with  a  sharp  fire  and 
killed  several  men.  The  commander,  exasperated  at 
this  loss,  resolved  to  take  signal  vengeance  The  two 
detachments  ascended  the  river  and  encamped  toward 
evening  beside  a  brook  which  empties  in  Bay  Ste. 
Anne,  southwest  of  where  the  college  now  stands.  On 
the  following  morning  the  commander  ordered  one  of 
the  companies  to  get  ready  to  march,  and  summoning 
the  lieutenant  gave  him  the  following  orders  : 

**  Every  house  you  come  across  belonging  to  these 
dogs  of  Frenchmen,  set  fire  to  it.  I  will  follow  you  a 
little  later." 

"But,'*  said  the  young  officer,  who  was  a  Scotchman, 
"must  I  burn  the  dwellings  of  those  who  offer  no  resist- 
ance ?  They  say  there  is  no  one  left  in  these  houses 
except  old  men,  women,  and  children." 

"  I  think,  sir,"  replied  Major  Montgomery,  "  that  my 
orders  are  quite  clear.  You  will  set  fire  to  every  house 
belonging  to  these  dogs  of  Frenchmen.  I  had  forgotten 
your  weakness  for  our  enci^ies." 

The  young  man  bit  his  lips  till  they  bled,  and 
marched  his  men  away.  The  reader  has,  doubtless, 
recognized  in  this  young  man  none  other  than  Archie 
de  Lochiel,  who,  having  made  his  peace  with  the  British 


I/O 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD, 


t;' 


Government,  had  recovered  possession  of  his  estates  and 
had  obtained  a  lieutenancy  in  a  re^  ent  which  he  had 
himself  recruited  among  the  Highlanders  of  his  own 
clan.  Archie  marched  off  groaning  and  muttering  all 
the  curses  he  could  think  of  in  English,  Gaelic,  and 
French.  At  the  first  house  where  he  stopped  a  young 
woman  flung  herself  weeping  at  his  feet,  crying  pite- 
ously : 

**  Good  sir,  do  not  kill  my  poor  old  father.  Do  not 
shorten  his  days.     He  has  but  a  little  while  to  live." 

A  little  boy  eleven  or  twelve  years  old  grasped  him 
about  the  knees  and  exclaimed  : 

"  Mister  Englishman,  do  not  kill  grandpapa  !  If  you 
only  knew  how  good  he  is !  " 

"  Do  not  fear,"  said  Archie,  entering  the  house,  "  I 
have  no  orders  to  kill  old  men,  women,  and  children. 
TheyMoubtless  supposed,"  he  .dded  bitterly,  "  that  I 
should  meet  none  such  on  my  route." 

Stretched  on  a  bed  of  pain  lay  a  decrepit  old  man. 

"  I  have  been  a  soldier  all  my  life,  monsieur,"  said 
he.  "  I  do  not  fear  death,  with  whom  I  have  been  often 
face  to  face,  but,  in  the  name  of  God,  spare  my  daughter 
and  her  child  !  * 

"They  shall  not  be  injured,"  replied  Archie,  with 
tears  in  his  eyes  ;  "  but  if  you  are  a  soldier,  you  know 
that  a  soldier  has  to  obey  orders.  I  am  ordered  to  burn 
all  the  buildings  on  my  line  of  march,  and  I  have  to 
obey.  Whither  shall  we  move  you,  father  ?  Listen,"  he 
added,  speaking  close  in  the  old  man's  ear.  "Your 
grandson  appears  active  and  intelligent.  Let  him  get  a 
horse  and  hasten  to  warn  your  fellow-countrymen  that  I 
have  to  burn  down  all  the  houses  on  my  road.  They 
will,  perhaps,  have  time  to  save  the  most  valuable  of  their 
belongings." 

"  You  are  a  good  and  brave  young  man  ! "  cried  the 


4 


THE  BURNING  OF  THE  SOUTH  SHOFE,      171 


and 


ti 


old  niau.  "  If  you  were  a  Catholic  I  would  give  you  my 
blessing  ;  but  thank  you  a  thousand  times,  thank  you  !  ** 

"  I  am  a  Catholic/'  said  Lochiel. 

The  old  man  raised  himself  with  difficulty,  lifted  his 
eyes  toward  heaven,  spread  his  hands  over  Archie's 
bended  head,  and  cried  :  "May  God  bless  you  for  this 
act  of  humanity  !  'n  the  day  of  heavy  affliction,  when 
you  implore  the  pity  of  Heaven,  may  God  take  count  of 
your  compassion  toward  your  enemies  and  give  ear  to 
your  prayers !  Say  to  him  then  with  confidence  in  the 
sorest  trials,  *  I  have  the  blessing  of  a  dying  old  man, 
my  enemy.' " 

The  old  man  in  his  bed  was  hastily  carried  by  the 
soldiers  to  an  adjoining  wood,  and  when  he  resumed  his 
march  Lochiel  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  the  little 
boy  mounted  on  a  swift  horse  and  devouring  the  miles 
beneath  him.     Archie  breathed  more  freely  at  the  sight. 

The  work  of  destruction  went  on  ;  but  from  time  to 
time,  whenever  he  reached  the  top  of  a  hill,  Archie  had 
the  satisfaction  of  seeing  old  men,  women,  and  children, 
loaded  down  with  their  possessions,  taking  refuge  in  the 
neighboring  woods.  If  he  wept  for  their  misfortunes,  he 
rejoiced  in  his  heart  that  he  had  done  everything  in  his 
power  to  mi*";Tate  them. 

Al'  tV»  .:  uses  of  a  portion  of  Riviere  Quelle,  and  of 
the  parishes  of  Ste.  Anne  and  St.  Roch,  along  the  edge 
of  the  St.  Lawrence,  were  by  this  time  in  ashes,  yet  there 
came  no  order  to  cease  from  the  work  of  destruction. 
From  time  to  time,  on  the  contrary,  Lochiel  saw  the 
division  of  his  superior  officer,  following  in  his  rear, 
come  to  a  halt  on  a  piece  of  rising  ground,  doubtless  for 
the  purpose  of  permitting  Major  Montgomery  to  gloat 
over  the  results  of  his  barbarous  order. 

The  first  house  of  St.  Jean-Port- Joli  was  that  of  a 
rich  habitant^  a  sergeant  in  Captain  d'Haberville's  com- 


172 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


pany.  Frequently  during  his  vacations  had  Archie 
lunched  at  this  house  with  Jules  and  his  sist'^;.  With 
what  a  pang  he  recalled  the  eager  hospitality  of  these 
people.  On  their  arrival,  Mother  Dupont  and  her  daugh- 
ters used  to  run  to  the  dairy,  the  barn,  the  garden,  for 
eggs,  butter,  cream,  parsley,  and  chervil,  to  make  them 
pancakes  and  herb  omelettes.  Father  Dupont  and  his 
sons  would  hasten  to  put  up  the  horses  and  give  them  a 
generous  measure  of  oats.  While  Mother  Dupont  was 
preparing  the  meal,  the  young  people  would  make  a  hasty 
toilet.  Then  they  would  get  up  a  dance,  and  skip  mer- 
rily to  the  notes  of  the  violin  which  screeched  beneath 
the  old  sergeant's  bow.  In  spite  of  the  remonstrances 
of  Blanche,  Jules  would  turn  everything  upside  down 
and  tease  everybody  to  death.  He  would  snatch  the 
frying-pan  from  the  hands  of  Mother  Dupont,  throw  his 
arm  around  her  waist,  and  compel  her,  in  spite  of  her 
struggles,  to  dance  with  him  ;  and  these  good  people 
would  shout  with  laughter  till  one  would  think  they 
could  never  get  too  much  of  the  racket.  All  these 
things  Lochiel  went  over  in  the  bitterness  of  his  soul, 
and  a  cold  sweat  broke  out  on  his  brow  as  he  ordered 
the  burning  of  this  hospitable  home. 

Almost  all  the  houses  in  the  first  concession  of  St. 
Jean-Port-Joli  were  by  this  time  in  ruins,  yet  there  came 
no  order  to  desist.  About  sunset,  however,  coming  to  the 
little  river  Port  Joli,  a  few  arpents  from  the  D'Haber- 
ville  place,  Lochiel  took  it  upon  himself  to  halt  his 
company.  He  climbed  the  hillside,  and  there,  in  sight 
of  the  manor,  he  waited  ;  he  waited  like  a  criminal  upon 
the  scaffold,  hoping  against  hope  that  a  reprieve  may 
come  at  the  last  moment.  His  heart  was  big  with  tender 
memories  as  he  gazed  upon  the  dwelling  where  for  ten 
years  the  exiled  orphan  had  been  received  as  a  child  of 
the  house.     Sorrowfully  he  looked  down  on  the  silent 


II! 


THE  BURNING  OF   THE  SOUTH  SHORE. 


'73 


village  which  had  been  so  full  of  life  when  last  he  saw 
it.  Some  pigeons  fluttering  over  the  buildings  and  from 
time  to  time  alighting  on  the  roofs  appeared  to  be  the 
only  living  creatures  about  the  manor.  Sighing,  he  re- 
peated the  words  of  Ossian  : 

**  *  Selma,  thy  halls  are  silent.  There  is  no  sound  in 
the  woods  of  Morven.  The  wave  tumbles  alone  in  the 
coast.     The  silent  beam  of  the  sun  is  on  the  field.' 

^^Ohf  Out!  Mes  amis/*'  cried  Lochiel,  in  the  lan- 
guage that  he  loved,  "  vos  salons  sont  maintenanty  Mlas  ! 
deserts  et  silencieux  I  There  is  no  sound  upon  this  hill 
which  so  lately  was  echoing  your  bright  voices.  I  hear 
only  the  ripples  lapping  upon  the  sand.  One  pale  ray 
from  the  setting  sun  is  all  that  lights  your  meadows. 

'*  What  shall  I  do,  kind  Heaven,  if  the  rage  of  the  brute 
who  commands  me  is  not  yet  sated  "i  Should  I  refuse 
to  obey  him  ?  Then  am  I  dishonored.  A  soldier  can 
not  in  time  of  war  refuse  to  carry  out  the  orders  of  his 
commander.  This  brute  could  have  me  shot  upon  the 
spot,  and  the  shield  of  the  Camerons  would  be  forever 
tarnished.  Who  would  trouble  himself  to  see  that  jus- 
tice was  done  to  the  memory  of  the  soldier  who  chose 
death  rather  than  the  stain  of  ingratitude  ?  On  the  con- 
trary, that  which  was  with  me  but  an  emotion  of  grate- 
ful remembrance,  would  certainly  be  imputed  to  me 
for  treason  by  this  creature  who  hounds  me  with  his 
devilish  malice." 

The  harsh  voice  of  Major  Montgomery  put  an  end 
to  these  reflections. 

"  What  are  you  doing  here  ?  "  he  growled. 

"  T  have  left  my  men  by  the  edge  of  the  river, 
and  was  proposing  to  encamp  there  after  our  long 
march." 

'*  It  is  not  late,"  answered  the  major,  "  and  you  know 
the  country  better  than  I.     You  will  easily  find  for  your 


174 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


encampment  another  place  than  that  which  I  have  just 
chosen  for  myself." 

'*I  will  march  at  once,"  said  Archie,  "There  is 
another  river  about  a  mile  from  here  where  we  can  camp 
for  the  night." 

'*  Very  well,"  said  Montgomery,  in  an  insolent  voice  ; 
"  and  as  you  have  but  a  few  more  houses  to  burn  in  this 
district,  your  men  will  soon  be  able  to  rest." 

"  It  is  true,"  said  Lochiel,  "  for  there  remain  but  five 
more  dwellings.  Two  of  these,  however,  the  group  of 
buildings  which  you  see  yonder  and  a  mill  on  the  stream 
where  I  am  going  to  camp,  belong  to  the  Seigneur 
d'Haberville,  the  man  who  during  my  exile  took  me  in 
and  treated  me  as  a  son.  For  God's  sake.  Major  Mont- 
gomery, give  the  order  yourself  for  their  destruction  !  " 

"I  never  should  have  believed,"  replied  the  major, 
"  that  a  British  officer  would  have  dared  to  utier  trea- 
son." 

**You  forget,  sir,"  said  Archie,  restraining  himself 
with  difficulty,  "  that  I  was  then  a  mere  child.  But  once 
more  I  implore  you,  in  the  name  of  all  you  hold  most 
dear,  give  the  order  yourself,  and  do  not  force  upon  me 
the  dishonor  of  setting  the  torch  to  the  home  of  them 
who  in  my  days  of  adversity  heaped  me  with  benefits." 

"  I  understand,"  replied  the  major,  with  a  sneer, 
"  you  wish  t  >  keep  a  way  open  to  return  to  the  favor  of 
your  friends  when  occasion  shall  arise." 

At  this  insulting  sarcasm  Archie  was  tempted  for  an 
instant  to  draw  liii  claymore  and  cry  : 

"  If  you  art  not  as  cowardly  as  you  are  insolent, 
defend  yourself.  Major  Montgomery  !  " 

Happily,  reason  came  to  his  aid.  Instead  of  grasp- 
ing his  sword,  his  hand  directed  itself  mecl.?nically 
toward  his  breast,  which  he  tore  fiercely.  Thf  n  he  re- 
membered the  words  of  the  witch  : 


THE  BURNING  OF  THE  SOUTH  SHORE. 


175 


Lve  just 

'here  is 
n  camp 


:  voice  ; 
i  in  this 


but  five 
roup  of 

stream 
eigneur 
:  me  in 

Mont- 
:tion !  " 

major, 
X  trea- 

himself 
It  once 
i  most 
)on  me 
F  them 
efits." 
sneer, 
Ivor  of 

for  an 

Bolent, 

grasp- 
lically 
he  re- 


"  Keep  your  pity  for  yourself,  Archibald  de  Lochiel, 
when,  forced  to  execute  a  barbarous  order,  your  nails  shall 
tear  that  breast  which  covers,  nevertheless,  a  noble  heart." 

"  She  was  indeed  taught  of  hell,  that  wo.  \an,"  thought 
he,  "  when  she  uttered  that  prophecy  to  a  Cameron  of 
Lochiel." 

With  malicious  pleasure  Montgomery  watched  for  a 
moment  the  strife  of  passions  which  tortured  the  young 
man's  heart.  He  gloated  over  his  despair.  Then,  per- 
suaded that  Archie  would  refuse  to  obey,  he  turned  his 
back  upon  him.  Lochiel,  perceiving  his  treacherous 
design,  hastened  to  rejoin  his  men,  and  a  half-hour  later 
the  buildings  were  in  flames.  Archie  paused  beside  the 
fountain  .vhere  in  happier  days  he  had  so  often  refreshed 
himself  with  his  friends;  and  from  that  spot  his  lynx- 
like eyes  discerned  Montgomery,  who  had  returned  to 
the  hill-top,  and  there  with  folded  arms  stood  feasting 
on  the  cruel  scene. 

Foaming  with  rage  at  the  sight  of  his  enemy,  Archie 
cried  : 

**You  have  a  good  memory,  Montgomery.  You 
have  not  forgotten  the  time  when  my  ancestor  beat  your 
grandfather  with  the  flat  of  his  saber  in  an  Edinburgh 
tavern.  But  I,  also,  have  a  good  memory.  I  shall  not 
always  wear  this  uniform  that  now  ties  my  hands,  and 
sooner  or  later  I  will  redouble  the  dose  upon  your  own 
shoulders,  for  you  would  be  too  much  of  a  coward  to 
meet  me  in  fair  fight.  A  beast  like  you  can  not  possess 
even  the  one  virtue  of  courage.  Curse  be  you  and  all 
your  race !  When  you  come  to  die  may  you  be  less 
fortunate  than  those  whose  dwellings  you  have  desolated 
to-day,  and  may  you  have  no  place  to  lay  your  head ! 
May  all  the  pangs  of  hell — " 

Then,  ashamed  of  the  impotence  of  his  rage,  he 
moved  away  with  a  groan. 


176 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


The  mill  upon  the  Trois-Saumons  River  was  soon 
but  a  heap  of  cinders,  and  the  burning  of  Captain 
d'Haberville's  property  in  Quebec,  which  took  place 
during  the  seige,  was  all  that  was  needed  to  complete 
his  ruin. 

After  taking  the  necessary  precautions  for  the  safety 
of  his  company,  Archie  directed  his  steps  to  the  deso- 
lated manor  There,  seated  on  the  summit  of  the  bluff, 
he  gazed  in  the  silence  of  anguish  on  the  smoking  ruins 
at  his  feet.  It  must  have  been  about  nine  o'clock.  The 
night  was  dark,  and  few  stars  revealed  themselves  in  the 
sky.  Presently,  however,  he  made  out  a  living  creature 
wandering  among  the  ruins.  It  was  old  Niger,  who  lifted 
his  head  toward  the  bluff  and  began  howling  piteously. 
Archie  thought  the  faithful  animal  was  reproaching  him 
with  his  ingratitude,  and  bitter  tears  scalded  his  cheeks. 

*'  Behold,"  said  he,  "  the  fruits  of  what  we  call  the 
code  of  honor  of  civilized  nations  !  Are  these  the  fruits 
of  Christianity,  that  religion  of  compassion  which  teaches 
us  to  love  even  our  enemies  ?  If  my  commander  were 
one  of  these  savage  chiefs,  whom  we  treat  as  barbarians, 
and  I  had  said  to  him :  *  Spare  this  house,  for  it  belongs 
to  my  friends.  I  was  a  wanderer  and  a  fugitive,  and 
they  took  me  in  and  gave  me  a  father  and  a  brother,'  the 
Indian  chief  would  have  answered :  '  It  is  well ;  spare 
your  friends ;  it  is  only  the  viper  that  stings  the  bosom 
that  has  warmed  it.' 

"  I  have  always  lived  in  the  hope,"  went  on  Lochiel, 
"of  one  day  rejoining  my  Canadian  friends,  whom  I  love 
to-day  more  than  ever,  if  that  were  possible.  No  recon- 
ciliation would  have  been  required.  It  was  natural  I 
should  seek  to  regain  my  patrimony,  so  nearly  dissipated 
by  the  confiscations  of  the  British  Government.  There 
remained  to  me  no  career  but  the  army,  the  only  one 
worthy  of  a  Cameron,     I  had   recovered  my  father's 


# 


THE  BURNING  OF   THE   SOUTH  SHORE. 


177 


sword,  which  one  of  my  friends  had  bought  back  from 
among  the  spoils  of  CuUoden.  Bearing  this  blade,  which 
had  never  known  a  stain,  I  dreamed  of  a  glorious  career. 
I  was  grieved,  indeed,  when  I  learned  that  my  regiment 
was  to  be  sent  against  New  France  ;  but  a  soldier  could 
not  resign  in  time  of  war  without  disgrace.  My  friends 
would  have  understood  that.  But  what  hope  now  for 
the  ingrate  who  has  ravaged  the  hearth  of  his  benefac- 
tors !  Jules  d'Haberville,  whom  I  once  called  my 
brother,  his  gentle  and  saintly  mother,  who  took  me  to 
her  heart,  the  fair  girl  whom  I  called  my  sister  to  hide 
a  deeper  feeling — these  will,  perhaps,  hear  my  justifica- 
tion and  end  by  forgiving  me.  But  Captain  d'Haber- 
ville, who  loves  with  all  his  heart,  but  who  never  forgives 
an  injury,  can  it  be  imagined  that  he  will  permit  his 
family  to  utter  my  name,  unless  to  curse  it  ? 

"  But  I  am  a  coward  and  a  fool,"  continued  Archie, 
grinding  his  teeth,  **  I  should  have  declared  before  my 
men  my  reasons  for  refusing  to  obey,  and,  though  Mont- 
gomery had  had  me  shot  upon  the  spot,  there  would 
have  been  found  loyal  spirits  to  approve  my  refusal  and 
to  right  my  memory.  I  have  been  a  coward  and  a  fool, 
for  in  case  the  major,  instead  of  having  me  shot,  had 
tried  me  before  a  court-martial,  even  while  pronouncing 
my  death  sentence  they  would  have  appreciated  my 
motives.  I  would  have  been  eloquent  in  the  defense  of 
my  honor,  and  of  that  noblest  of  human  sentiments, 
gratitude.  Oh,  my  friends,  would  that  you  could  see 
my  remorse !     Coward,  ten  thousand  times  coward  ! — " 

A  voice  near  him  repeated  the  words  "  Coward,  ten 
thousand  times  coward  ! "  He  thought  at  first  it  was 
the  echo  from  the  bluff.  He  raised  his  head  and  per- 
ceived the  witch  of  the  manor  standing  erect  on  a  pro- 
jecting rock.  She  stretched  out  her  hands  over  the 
ruins,  and  cried  :  '*  Woe  !  woe  !  woe  !  "    Then  she  de- 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 

scended  like  lightning,-  by  a  steep  and  dangerous  path, 
and  wandered  to  and  fro  among  the  ruins,  crying  : 
"  Desolation  !  desolation  !  desolation  I  "  At  length  she 
raised  her  arm  with  a  gesture  of  menace,  pointed  to  the 
summit  of  the  bluff,  and  cried  in  a  loud  voice  :  "  Woe  to 
you,  Archibald  de  Lochiel !  " 

The  old  dog  howled  long  and  plaintively,  then  silence 
fell  upon  the  scene. 

Archie's  head  sank  upon  his  breast.  The  next  mo- 
ment four  savages  sprang  upon  him,  hurled  him  to  the 
ground,  and  bound  his  hands.  These  were  four  war- 
riors of  the  Abenaquis,  who  had  been  spying  upon  the 
movements  of  the  English  ever  since  their  landing  at 
Riviere  Quelle.  Relying  upon  his  tremendous  strength, 
Archie  made  desperate  efforts  to  break  his  bonds.  The 
tough  moose-hide  which  enwound  his  wrists  in  triple 
coils  stretched  mightily,  but  resisted  all  his  efforts.  See- 
ing this,  Archie  resigned  himself  to  his  fate,  and  followed 
his  captors  quietly  into  the  forest.  His  vigorous  Scottish 
legs  spared  him  further  ill  treatment.  Bi  .  •  were  the 
reflections  of  the  captive  during  the  rapid  southward 
march  through  the  forest,  wherein  he  had  so  often  hunted 
with  his  brother  D'Haberville.  Heedless  of  the  fierce 
delight  of  the  Indians,  whose  eyes  flashed  at  the  sight  of 
his  despair,  he  exclaimed  : 

'*  You  have  conquered,  Montgomery  ;  my  curses  re- 
coil upon  my  own  head.  You  will  proclaim  that  I  have 
deserted  to  the  enemy,  that  1  am  a  traitor  as  you  long 
suspected.  You  will  rejoice  indeed,  for  I  have  lost  all, 
even  honor."  And  like  Job,  he  cursed  the  day  that  he 
was  born. 

After  two  hours'  rapid  marching  they  arrived  at  the 
foot  of  the  mountain  which  overlooks  Trois  Saumons 
Lake,  on  which  water  Archie  concluded  th  '  ;';  "  would 
find  an  encampment  of  the  Abenaquis.     Coining;  lo  ihe 


THE  BURNING  OF  THE  SOUTH  SHORE. 


179 


"gerous  path, 
uins,  crying  ; 
^t  length  she 
ointed  to  the 
^•e  :  "  Woe  to 

» then  silence 

^e  next  mo- 
1  him  to  the 
e  four  war- 
ig  upon  the 

landing  at 
us  strength, 
onds.  The 
ts  in  triple 
forts.  See- 
»d  followed 
us  Scottish 

•were  the 
southward 
en  hunted 

the  fierce 
le  sight  of 


edge  of  the  lake,  one  of  his  captors  uttered  three  times 
the  cry  of  the  osprey  ;  and  the  seven  echoes  of  the 
mountain  repeated,  each  three  times,  the  piercing  and 
strident  call  of  the  great  swan  of  Lower  Canada.  At 
any  other  time  Lochiel  \yould  have  thrilled  with  admi- 
ration at  the  sight  of  r.iis  beautiful  water  outspread  be- 
neath the  starlight,  en  ringed  with  mountains  and  seeded 
with  green-crowned  islets.  It  was  the  same  lake  to 
which,  for  ten  happy  years,  he  had  made  hunting  and 
fishing  excursions  with  his  friends.  It  was  the  same 
lake  which  he  had  sv/um  at  its  widest  part  to  prove  his 
prowess.  But  to-night  all  Nature  appeared  as  dead  as 
the  heart  within  him.  From  one  of  the  islets  came  a 
birch  r  aoe,  paddled  by  a  man  in  Indian  garb,  but  wear- 
ing a  cap  of  fox-skin.  The  new  comer  held  a  long  con- 
versation with  the  four  savages,  but  Archie  was  ignorant 
of  the  Ab^naquis  tongue,  and  could  make  out  nothing 
of  what  they  said.  Two  of  the  Indians  thereupon  started 
off  to  the  southwest ;  but  Archie  was  put  into  the  canoe 
and  taken  to  the  islet. 


-urses  re- 
at  I  have 
you  long 
lost  nil, 
f  that  he 


d  at  the 
Jaumons 
would 


T 


^.' 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


A    NIGHT    AMONG    THE   SAVAGES. 

What  tragic  tea'..,  bedew  the  eye  ! 
What  deaths  we  suffer  ere  we  die  ! 
Our  broken  friendships  we  deplore, 
And  loves  of  youth  that  are  no  more. 


Logan. 


All,  all  on  earth  is  shadow,  all  beyond 
Is  substance  ;  the  reverse  is  folly's  creed. 
How  solid  all  where  change  shall  be  no  more  ! 

Young's  A'/£/a  Thoughts. 

Having  cursed  his  enemy  and  the  day  of  his  birth, 
Lochiel  had  gradually  come  to  a  more  Christian  frame  of 
mind,  as  he  lay  bound  to  a  tree  and  all  hope  banished 
from  his  heart.  He  knew  that  the  savages  scarcely  ever 
spared  their  captives,  and  that  a  slow  and  hideous  death 
was  in  store  for  him.  Recovering  his  natural  force  of 
mind,  he  hardly  took  care  to  pray  for  his  deliverance  ; 
but  he  implored  of  Heaven  forgiveness  for  his  sins  and 
strength  to  bear  the  tortures  that  were  before  him.  Of 
what  account,  thought  he,  the  judgment  of  men  when 
the  dream  of  life  is  over?  And  he  bowed  himself  be- 
neath the  hand  of  God. 

The  three  warriors  were  seated  around  within  a 
dozen  feet  of  Lochiel,  smoking  in  silence.  The  Indians 
are  naturally  reserved,  regarding  light  conversation  as 
only  suitable  to  women  and  children.  One  of  them, 
however,  by  name  Talamousse,  speaking  to  the  man  of 
the  island,  made  inquiry  : 


A  NIGHT  AMONG   THE  SAVAGES. 


I8l 


"Will  my  brother  wait  long  here  for  the  warriors 
from  the  Portage  ? " 

"  Three  days,"  answered  the  latter,  lifting  up  three 
fingers.  "  Grand-Loutre  and  Talamousse  will  depart 
to-morrow  with  the  prisoner.  The  Frenchman  will  re- 
join them  at  the  encampment  of  Captain  Launi^re." 

"  It  is  well,"  said  Grand-Loutre,  extending  his  hand 
toward  the  south  "  We  are  going  to  take  the  prisoner 
to  the  camp  at  Petit-Marigotte,  where  we  will  wait  three 
days  for  my  brother  and  the  warriors  from  the  Portage, 
and  then  go  to  the  camp  of  Captain  Launi^re." 

For  the  first  time  Lochiel  perceived  that  the  voice 
of  the  man  with  the  fox-skin  cap  was  not  like  that  of 
the  other  two  men,  although  he  spoke  their  language 
fluently.  Hitherto  he  had  suffered  in  silence  the  tor- 
ments of  a  burning  thirst  It  was  a  veritable  torture  of 
Tantalus,  with  the  crystal  lake  waters  lapping  at  his 
feet,  but,  under  the  impression  that  the  man  might  be  a 
Frenchman,  he  made  bold  to  say  : 

"  If  there  is  a  Christian  among  you,  for  God's  sake 
let  him  give  me  a  drink." 

**  What  does  the  dog  want  ? "  said  Grand-Loutre  to 
his  companion. 

The  man  addressed  made  no  answer  for  some  mo- 
ments. His  whole  body  trembled,  his  face  became  pale 
as  death,  a  cold  sweat  bathed  his  forehead ;  then,  con- 
trolling himself  sternly,  he  answered  in  his  natural 
voice : 

"  The  prisoner  asks  for  a  drink." 

"  Tell  the  dog  of  an  Englishman,"  said  Talamousse, 
"  that  he  shall  be  burned  to-morrow  ;  and  that  if  he  is 
very  thirsty  he  shall  have  boiling  water  to  drink." 

"  I  arn  going  to  tell  him,"  replied  the  Canadian  pres- 
ently, "  that  my  brothers  pernnt  me  to  give  their  captive 
a  little  water." 


\w 


182 


T^E   CANADIANS  OF  OLD, 


**Let  my  brother  do  as  he  will,"  said  Talamousse; 
**the  pale  faces  have  hearts  like  young  girls." 

The  Canadian  curled  a  piece  of  birch  bark  into  the 
form  of  a  cup,  filled  it  with  fresh  water,  and  handed  it 
to  the  prisoner,  saying  : 

"  Who  are  you,  sir  ?  In  the  name  of  God  who  are 
you  ?  Your  voice  is  like  that  of  a  man  who  is  very  dear 
to  me." 

"  I  am  Archibald  Cameron,  of  Lochiel,"  came  the 
answer,  '*  once  the  friend  of  your  countrymen  ;  now 
their  enemy,  and  well  deserving  the  fate  which  is  in 
store  for  him." 

"  Mr.  Archie,"  replied  Dumais,  for  he  it  was,  "  al- 
though you  had  slain  my  brother,  although  it  should  be 
necessary  for  me  to  cut  down  these  two  red  rascals  with 
my  tomahawk,  in  an  hour  you  shall  be  free.  I  shall  try 
persuasion  before  resorting  to  violent  measures.  Now 
silence." 

Dumais  resumed  his  place  with  the  Indians,  and 
after  a  time  he  remarked  : 

"  The  prisoncir  thanks  the  red-skins  for  promisirg  him 
the  death  of  a  man  ;  he  says  that  the  song  of  the  pale 
face  will  be  that  of  a  warrior." 

"  Houa  !  "  said  Grand-Loutre,  "  the  Englishman  will 
screech  like  an  owl  when  he  sees  the  fires  of  our 
wigwams."  And  he  went  on  smoking  and  casting 
glances  of  contempt  upon  Lochiel. 

"The  Englishman,"  said  Talamousse,  "speaks  like 
a  man  while  the  stake  is  yet  far  cff.  The  Englishman  is 
a  coward  who  could  not  suffer  t.iirst.  He  has  begged 
his  enemies  for  a  drink  like  a  baby  crying  for  its  moth- 
er." And  the  Indian  spit  upon  the  ground  contempt- 
uously. 

Dumais  opened  a  wallet,  took  out  some  provisions, 
and  offered  a  portion  to  the  savage*,  who  refused  to  eat. 


A  NIGHT  AMONG  THE  SAVAGES. 


183 


Then  he  stepped  into  the  woods,  t  nd  after  a  short  search 
brought  out  a  bottle  of  brandy.  He  took  a  drink  and 
began  to  eat.  The  eyes  of  one  of  the  Indians  dwelt 
longingly  on  the  bottle. 

"  Talamousse  is  not  hungry,  my  brother,"  said  he, 
"but  he  is  very  thirsty.  He  has  n  ade  a  long  march  to- 
day and  he  is  very  tired.  The  fire-water  is  good  to  rest 
one's  legs." 

Dumais  passed  him  the  bottle.  The  Indian  seized 
it  with  a  trembling  hand  and  gulped  down  a  good  half 
of  the  contents. 

"  Ah,  but  that's  good,"  said  he,  handing  back  the 
bottle  ;  and  presently  his  piercing  eyes  grew  gla/cd,  and 
a  vacant  look  began  to  creep  into  his  face. 

"  Dumais  does  not  offer  any  to  his  brother  Grand- 
Lou  tre,"  said  the  Canadian ;  "  he  knows  that  he  does 
not  drink  fire-water." 

"  The  Great  Si)irit  loves  Grand-Loutre,"  said  the  lat- 
ter, **and  made  him  throw  up  the  only  mouthful  of  fire- 
water he  ever  drank.  The  Great  Spirit  made  him  so 
sick  that  he  thought  he  was  going  to  visit  the  country  of 
souls.  Grand-Loutre  is  very  thankful,  for  the  fire-water 
takes  away  man's  wisdom." 

"  It  is  good  fire-water,"  said  Talamousse  after  a  mo- 
ment's silence,  stretching  out  his  hand  toward  the  l^ottle, 
Mihich  Dumais  removed  from  his  reach.  "  Give  me  o»# 
more  drink,  my  brotiier,  I  beg  you." 

"  No,"  said  Dumais,  "  not  now  ;  by  and  by,  per- 
haps." And  he  put  the  bottle  back  into  his  knap- 
sack. 

"The  Great  Spirit  also  loves  the  Canadian,"  resumed 
Dumais  after  a  pause  ;  "  he  appeased  to  him  last  night 
in  a  dream." 

"  What  did  he  say  to  my  brothe  ? "  asked  the  In- 
dians. 


SCARBOROUGH  TOUNSMP 
HtlLIC  LIBRARIES 


;  I 


184 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD, 


"  The  Great  Spirit  told  him  to  buy  back  the  prison- 
er," answered  Dumais. 

**  My  brother  lies  like  a  Frenchman,"  replied  Grand- 
Loutre.  **  He  lies  like  all  the  pale  faces.  The  red-skins 
do  not  lie  to  them." 

"  The  French  never  lie  when  they  speak  of  the  Great 
Spirit,"  said  the  Canadian  ;  and,  opening  his  knapsack, 
he  took  a  small  sip  of  brandy. 

"Give  me,  my  brother,  give  me  one  little  drink," 
said  Talamousse,  stretching  out  his  hand. 

"  If  Talamousse  will  sell  me  his  share  of  the  prison- 
er," said  Dumais,  "he  shall  have  another  drink." 

**  Give  me  all  the  fire-water,"  said  Talamousse,  **  and 
take  my  share  of  the  English  dog." 

"No,"  said  Dumais,  "one  more  drink  and  that  will 
be  all ; "  and  he  made  a  movement  to  put  away  the 
bottle. 

"  Give  it  to  me,  then,  and  take  my  share  of  him." 

He  seized  the  bottle  in  both  hands,  took  a  long 
pull  at  the  precious  fluid,  and  then  fell  asleep  on  the 
grass. 

"There's  one  of  them  fixed,"  thought  Dumais. 

Grard-Loutre  had  been  watching  all  this  with  an 
air  of  defiance,  but  had  kept  on  smoking  indifferently. 

"  Now  will  my  brother  sell  me  his  share  of  the  pris- 
oner }  "  asked  Dumais. 

"  What  do  you  want  of  him  }  "  replied  the  savage. 

"  To  sell  him  to  Captain  d'Haberville,  who  will  have 
him  hung  for  burning  his  house.  The  prisoner  will 
endure  like  a  warrior  the  tortures  of  the  stake,  but  at 
sight  of  the  rope  he  will  weep  like  a  girl." 

"  My  brother  lies  again,"  replied  Grand-Loutre.  "All 
the  English  that  we  have  burned  cried  out  like  cowards, 
and  not  one  of  them  sang  his  death-song  like  a  man. 
They  would  have  thanked  us  to  hang  them.     It  is  only 


T 


A  NIGHT  AMONG  THE  SA  VACES 


185 


the  red  warrior  who  prefers  the  stake  to  the  disgrace  of 
being  hung  like  a  dog." 

"  Let  my  brother  heed  my  words,"  said  Dumais. 
"  The  prisoner  is  not  an  Englishman,  but  a  Scotchman, 
and  the  Scotch  are  the  savages  of  the  English.  Let  my 
brother  observe  the  prisoner's  clothing,  and  see  how  like 
it  is  to  that  of  a  savage  warrior." 

"That  is  true,"  said  Grand-Loutre.  "He  does  not 
smother  himself  in  clothes  like  the  other  soldiers  w  .om 
the  Great  Ononthio  sends  across  the  wat  t.  But  what 
has  that  to  do  with  it  ?  " 

"  Why,"  replied  the  Canadian,  "  a  Scotch  warrior 
would  rather  be  burned  than  be  hung.  Like  the  red- 
skins of  Canada,  he  considers  that  one  hangs  only  dogs, 
and  that  if  he  were  to  go  to  the  country  of  souls  with 
the  rope  about  his  neck  the  savage  warriors  would  re- 
fuse to  hunt  with  him." 

"  My  brother  lies  again,"  said  the  Indian,  shaking 
his  head  incredulously.  "  The  Scotch  savages  are  never- 
theless pale  faces,  and  they  can  not  have  the  courage  to 
endure  pain  like  a  red-skin."  And  he  went  on  smoking 
thoughtfully. 

** Let  my  brother  heaiKcn,  and  he  will  see  that  I 
speak  the  truth,"  said  Dumais. 

"Speak,  thy  brother  gives  ear." 

"The  English  and  the  Scotch,"  continued  the  Cana- 
dian, "  dwell  in  a  great  island  beyond  the  great  water. 
The  English  dwell  on  the  plains,  while  the  Scotch  in- 
habit the  mountains.  The  English  are  as  many  as  the 
grains  of  sand  about  the  shores  of  this  lake,  while  the 
Scotch  are  but  as  the  sands  of  this  little  island.  Yet 
the  Scotch  have  withstood  the  English  in  war  for  as 
many  moons  as  there  are  leaves  on  this  great  maple. 
The  English  are  rich,  the  Scotch  poor.  When  the 
Scotch  beat  the  English,  they  return  to  their  mountains 


J.  s 


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& 


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IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


I.I 


1.25 


■4^128     12.5 

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H^    1^    IlilM 


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Photographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)872-4503 


L* 


1 86 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


laden  with  booty;  when  the  English  beat  the  Scotch, 
they  get  nothing.     The  profit  is  all  on  one  side." 

"If  the  English  are  so  numerous,"  said  Grand- 
Loutre,  "  why  do  they  not  pursue  their  enemies  into  the 
mountains  and  kill  every  man  of  them?  They  could 
not  escape,  since,  as  my  brother  says,  they  live  on  the 
same  island." 

"  Houa ! "  cried  Dumais,  after  the  fashion  of  the 
savages,  "  I  will  show  my  brother  why.  The  Scotch 
mountains  are  so  high  that  if  an  army  of  young  Eng- 
lishmen were  to  ascend  them  but  half  way,  they  would 
be  an  army  of  graybeards  before  they  got  down  again." 

"  The  French  are  always  tomfools,"  said  the  Indian. 
"  They  can't  do  anything  but  talk  nonsense.  Soon  they 
will  put  on  petticoats  and  go  and  sit  with  our  squaws, 
and  amuse  them  with  their  funny  stories.  They  never 
talk  seriously  like  men." 

"  My  brother  ought  to  understand,"  said  Dumais, 
"  that  what  I  said  was  merely  to  impress  upon  him  the 
remarkable  height  of  the  Scottish  mountains." 

"  Let  my  brother  continue.  Grand-Loutre  hears  and 
understands,"  said  the  Indian,  accustomed  to  this  figur- 
ative style  of  speech. 

**  The  Scotch  legs  are  as  strong  as  those  of  a  moose 
and  active  as  those  of  a  roebuck,"  continued  Dumais. 

"True,"  said  the  Indian,  "if  they  are  all  like  the 
prisoner  here,  who,  in  spite  of  his  bonds,  kept  right  on 
my  heels  all  the  way.     He  has  tbe  legs  of  an  Indian." 

"  The  English,"  said  Dumais,  "  are  large  and  strong, 
but  they  have  soft  legs  and  huge  bellies.  When  they 
pursue  their  more  active  enemies  into  the  mountains 
the  Scotchmen  lie  in  ambush  and  kill  them  by  the 
score.  The  war  seemed  as  if  it  would  last  forever. 
When  the  English  took  prisoners  they  used  to  burn 
many  of  them  ;  but  these  would  sing  their  death-song 


A  NIGHT  AMONG   THE  SAVAGES. 


187 


it 


'A  the  stake  and  heap  insult  on  their  torturers  by  telling 
them  that  they  had  drunk  out  of  the  skulls  of  their 
ancestors." 

**  Houa !  "  cried  Grand-I.outre,  "  they  are  men  these 
Scotch." 

**  The  Scotch  had  a  great  chief  named  Wallace,  a 
mighty  warrior.  When  he  set  out  for  war  the  earth 
trembled  under  his  feet.  He  was  as  tall  as  yonder 
fir-tree  and  as  strong  as  an  army.  An  accursed  wretch 
betrayed  him  for  money,  he  was  taken  prisoner  and  sen- 
tenced to  be  hung.  At  this  news  a  cry  of  rage  and 
grief  went  up  from  all  the  mountains  of  Scotland.  All 
the  warriors  painted  their  faces  black,  a  great  council 
was  held,  and  ten  chiefs  bearing  the  pipe  of  peace  set 
out  for  England.  They  were  conducted  into  a  great 
wigwam,  the  council  fire  was  lighted,  and  for  a  long 
time  every  one  spoke  in  silence.  At  length  an  old 
chief  took  up  the  word,  and  said  :  *  My  brother,  the 
earth  has  drunk  enough  of  the  blood  of  these  two  great 
nations,  and  we  wish  to  bury  the  hatchet.  Give  us 
back  Wallace  and  we  will  remain  hostages  in  his  place. 
You  shall  put  us  to  death  if  ever  again  he  lifts  the 
tomahawk  against  you.*  With  these  words  he  handed 
the  pipe  of  peace  to  the  Great  Ononthio  of  the  English, 
who  waved  it  aside,  saying  sternly,  *  Within  three  days 
Wallace  shall  be  hung.'  *  Listen  my  brother,'  said  the 
great  Scotch  chief,  *  if  Wallace  must  die  let  him  die  the 
death  of  a  warrior.  Hanging  is  a  death  for  dogs.' 
And  again  he  presented  the  pipe  of  peace,  and  Onon- 
thio refused  it.  The  deputies  withdrew  and  consulted 
together.  On  their  return  the  great  chief  said  :  *  Let  my 
brother  hearken  favorably  to  my  last  words.  Let  him 
fix  eleven  stakes  to  burn  Wallace  and  these  ten  warri- 
ors, who  will  be  proud  to  share  his  fate  and  will  thank 
their  brother  for  his  clemency.'    Qnce  more  he  offered 


i88 


THE   CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


the  pipe  of  peace,  and  once  more  Ononthio  rejected 
it." 

"  Houa  !  "  cried  Grand-Loutre,  **  those  were  noble 
and  generous  words.  But  my  brother  has  not  told  me 
how  the  Scotch  are  now  friends  with  the  English  and 
fighting  against  the  French." 

"  With  rage  in  their  hearts,  the  deputies  returned  to 
their  mountains.  At  their  death-cries,  which  they 
uttered  at  the  gate  of  every  town  and  village  to  an- 
nounce the  fate  of  Wallace,  every  one  rushed  to  arms; 
and  the  war  between  the  two  nations  continued  for  as 
many  moons  as  there  are  grains  of  sand  here  in  my 
hand,"  said  Dumais,  picking  up  a  handful.  "  The  Scotch 
were  generally  beaten  by  their  swarming  enemies,  and 
their  rivers  ran  with  blood,  but  they  knew  not  how  to 
yield.  The  war  would  have  been  going  on  still  but  for 
a  traitor  who  warned  the  English  that  nine  Scotch 
chiefs,  having  gathered  in  a  cavern  to  drink  fire-water, 
had  fallen  to  sleep  there  like  our  brother  Talamousse." 

"The  red-skins,"  said  Grand-Loutre,  "are  never 
traitors  to  their  own  people.  They  deceive  their  ene- 
mies, but  never  their  friends.  Will  my  brother  tell  me 
how  it  comes  that  there  are  traitors  among  the  pale 
faces  ? " 

Dumais,  a  little  puzzled  to  answer  this  question,  went 
on  as  if  he  had  not  heard  it. 

"  The  nine  chiefs  were  taken  to  a  great  city  and  con- 
demned to  be  hung  within  a  month.  On  this  sad  news 
fires  were  lighted  on  all  the  hills  of  Scotland  to  summon 
a  grand  council  of  all  the  warriors.  The  wise  men  spoke 
fine  words  for  three  days  and  three  nights,  but  came  to 
no  conclusion.  Then  they  consulted  the  spirits,  and  a 
great  medicine-man  declared  that  the  Manitou  was 
angry  with  his  children,  and  that  they  must  bury  the 
hatchet  forever.    Twenty  warriors  with  blackened  faces 


A  NIGHT  AMONG   THE  SAVAGES. 


189 


ejected 

noble 
old  me 
sh  and 

ned  to 

h    they 

to  an- 

)  arms; 

for  as 

in  my 

Scotch 

es,  and 

how  to 

but  for 

Scotch 

[•water, 

usse." 

i  never 

ir  ene- 

tell  me 

le  pale 

n,  went 

id  con- 
1  news 
immon 
I  spoke 
ime  to 
and  a 
u  was 
ry  the 
1  faces 


betook  themselves  to  the  chief  town  of  the  English,  and 
before  the  gates  they  uttered  a  death-cry  for  every  cap- 
tive chief.  A  great  council  was  held,  and  Ononthio 
granted  peace  on  condition  that  they  should  give  host- 
ages, that  they  should  deliver  up  their  strongholds,  that 
the  two  nations  should  henceforth  be  as  one,  and  that 
the  English  and  Scotch  warriors  should  fight  shoulder 
to  shoulder  against  the  enemies  of  the  great  Ononthio. 
A  feast  was  made  which  lasted  three  days  and  three 
nights,  and  at  which  so  much  brandy  was  drunk  that 
the  women  took  away  all  the  tomahawks.  Had  they 
not  done  so  the  war  would  have  broken  out  anew.  The 
English  were  so  rejoiced  that  they  promised  to  send  the 
Scotch  all  the  heads,  feet,  and  tails  of  the  sheep  which 
they  should  kill  in  the  future." 

"  The  English  must  be  generous,  indeed,"  said  the 
Indian. 

*'  My  brother  must  see  by  this,"  continued  Dumais, 
"that  a  Scotch  warrior  would  rather  be  burned  than 
hung,  and  he  will  sell  me  his  share  of  the  prisoner.  Let 
my  brother  fix  his  price,  and  Dumais  will  not  count  the 
cost." 

"  Grand-Loutre  will  not  sell  his  share  of  the  prison- 
er," said  the  Indian.  *'  He  has  promised  Taoutsi  and 
Katakoui  to  hand  him  over  to-morrow  at  Petit-Marigotte, 
and  he  will  keep  his  word.  The  council  will  be  assem- 
bled, and  Grand-Loutre  will  speak  to  the  young  men. 
If  the  young  men  consent  not  to  burn  him,  it  will  then 
be  time  to  hand  him  over  to  D'Haberville." 

"  My  brother  knows  Dumais,"  said  the  Canadian. 
"  He  knows  that  he  is  rich  and  a  man  of  his  word. 
Dumais  will  pay  for  the  prisoner  six  times  as  much  as 
Ononthio  pays  the  Indians  for  every  one  of  his  enemies* 
scalps." 

"Grand-Loutre  knows,"  said  the  Indian,  "that  his 


IQO 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD, 


brother  speaks  the  truth,  but  he  will  not  sell  his  share 
of  the  prisoner." 

The  eyes  of  the  Canadian  shot  flame,  and  instinct- 
ively he  grasped  his  hatchet ;  but,  suddenly  changing 
his  mind,  he  assumed  an  indifferent  air,  and  knocked 
the  ashes  out  of  the  bowl  of  his  tomahawk,  which  served 
the  Canadians  as  well  as  the  savages  for  tobacco-pipe 
when  on  the  march.  Although  the  first  hostile  move- 
ment of  the  Canadian  had  not  escaped  the  keen  eye  of 
his  companion,  the  latter  went  on  smoking  tranquilly. 

The  words  of  Dumais  had  revived  the  spark  of  hope 
in  Archie's  heart.  In  spite  of  his  bitter  remorse,  he  was 
too  young  to  bid  farewell  without  regret  to  all  that  made 
life  dear.  Could  he,  the  last  of  his  race,  willingly  suffer 
the  shield  of  the  Camerons  to  go  to  the  tomb  with  a 
stain  ?  Could  he  endure  to  die,  leaving  the  D'Haber- 
villes  to  think  that  they  had  cherished  a  viper  in  their 
bosom  ?  He  thought  of  the  despair  of  Jules,  the  curses 
of  the  implacable  captain,  the  silent  grief  of  the  good 
woman  who  used  to  call  him  her  son,  the  sorrow  of  the 
fair  girl  wnom  he  had  hoped  one  day  to  call  by  a  ten- 
derer name  than  that  of  sister.  Archie  was,  indeed, 
young  to  die  ;  and  with  the  renewal  of  hope  in  his 
heart,  he  again  clung  desperately  to  life. 

He  had  followed  with  ever-increasing  anxiety  the 
scene  that  was  passing  before  him.  He  endeavored  to 
comprehend  it  by  watching  the  faces  of  the  speakers. 
Dark  as  was  the  night,  he  had  lost  nothing  of  the  hate 
and  scorn  which  were  flashed  upon  him  from  the  cruel 
eyes  of  the  savages.  Knowing  the  ferocity  of  the  Indi- 
ans when  under  the  influence  of  alcohol,  it  was  not 
without  surprise  he  saw  Dumais  passing  them  the  bot- 
tle; but  when  he  saw  one  refuse  to  drink  and  the  other 
stretched  in  drunken  stupor  on  the  sand,  he  understood 
the  Canadian's  tactics.     When  he  heard  the  name  of 


A  NIGHT  AMONG   TIl^   SAVAGES. 


191 


s  share 

istinct- 
anging 
Qocked 
served 
:o-pipe 
move- 
eye  of 
lilly. 
>f  hope 
he  was 
t  made 
suffer 
with  a 
iaber- 
i  their 
curses 
e  good 
of  the 
a  ten- 
ndeed, 
in   his 

ity  the 
red  to 
makers, 
e  hate 
2  cruel 
J  Indi- 
is  not 
le  bot- 
:  other 
rstood 
me  of 


m 


Wallace,  he  remembered  that  during  Dumais's  illness  he 
had  often  entertained  him  with  fabulous  stories  about 
his  favorite  hero,  but  he  was  puzzled  to  guess  the  Cana- 
dian's purpose  in  talking  about  the  deeds  of  a  Scottish 
warrior.  If  he  had  understood  the  latter  part  of  Du- 
mais's story,  he  would  have  recalled  the  chaffing  of 
Jules  in  regard  to  the  pretended  delicacies  of  his  coun- 
trymen. When  he  saw  the  angry  gleam  in  the  Canadi- 
an's eyes,  when  he  saw  him  grasp  his  tomahawk,  he  was 
on  the  point  of  crying  not  to  strike.  His  generous  soul 
foresaw  the  dangers  to  which  his  friend  would  be  ex- 
posed if  he  should  kill  an  Indian  belonging  to  a  tribe 
allied  with  the  French. 

The  Canadian  was  silent  for  some  time.  He  re- 
filled his  pipe,  began  to  smoke,  and  at  length  said 
quietly : 

"  When  Grand-Loutre,  with  his  father,  his  wife,  and  his 
two  sons,  fell  sick  of  the  small-pox  over  by  South  River, 
Dumais  sought  them  out.  At  the  risk  of  bringing  the 
disease  upon  himself  and  family,  he  carried  them  to  his 
own  wigwam,  where  he  nursed  them  for  three  moons. 
It  was  not  the  fault  of  Dumais  if  the  old  man  and  the 
two  boys  died  ;  Dumais  had  them  buried  like  Chris- 
tians, and  the  Black  Robe  has  prayed  to  the  Great 
Spirit  for  their  souls." 

"  If  Dumais,"  replied  the  Indian,  "  if  Dumais  and 
his  wife  and  his  children  had  fallen  sick  in  the  forest, 
Grand-Loutre  would  have  carried  them  to  his  wigwam, 
vould  have  fished  for  them  and  would  have  hunted  for 
them,  would  have  bought  them  the  fire-water  which  is 
the  Frenchman's  medicine,  and  would  have  said,  *  Eat 
and  drink  my  brothers,  and  recover  your  strength.* 
Grand-Loutre  and  his  squaw  would  have  watched  day 
and  night  bi  the  couch  of  their  French  friends  ;  and 
never  would  Grand-Loutre  have  said,  *  Remember  that  I 


192 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


■  % 


I 


fed  you  and  took  care  of  you  and  bought  fire-water  tor 
you  with  iny  furs.*  Let  my  brother  take  the  prisoner," 
continued  the  Indian,  drawing  himself  up  proudly ; 
*'  the  red-skin  is  no  longer  in  debt  to  the  pale  face  !  " 
And  he  calmly  resumed  his  smoking. 

"Listen,  my  brother,"  said  the  Canadian,  "and  par- 
don Dumais  that  he  has  hidden  the  truth.  He  knew 
not  thy  great  heart.  Now  he  is  going  to  speak  in  the 
presence  of  the  Great  Spirit  himself,  in  whose  presence 
he  dare  not  lie." 

*'  That  is  true,"  said  the  Indian,  "  let  my  brother 
speak." 

"  When  Grand- Loutre  was  sick  two  years  ago,"  con- 
tinued the  Canadian,  *'  Dumais  told  him  about  his  ad- 
venture when  the  ice  went  out  that  spring  at  the  Falls  of 
St.  Thomas,  and  how  he  was  saved  by  a  young  Scotch- 
man who  had  arrived  that  very  evening  at  the  house  of 
the  Seigneur  de  Beaumont." 

"  My  brother  has  told  me,"  said  the  Indian,  "  and 
he  has  shown  me  the  little  island  suspended  over  the 
abyss,  whereon  he  awaited  death.  Grand-Loutre  knew 
the  place  and  the  old  cedar  to  which  my  brother 
clung." 

"  Very  well  !  "  replied  Dumais,  rising  and  taking  off 
his  cap,  "  thy  brother  swears  in  the  presence  of  the 
Great  Spirit  that  the  prisoner  is  none  other  than  the 
young  Scotchman  who  saved  his  life  !  " 

The  Indian  gave  a  great  cry  which  went  echoing 
wildly  round  the  lake.  He  sprang  to  his  feet,  drew  his 
knife,  and  rushed  upon  the  captive.  Lochiel  thought 
his  hour  had  come  and  commended  his  soul  to  God. 
What  was  his  surprise  when  the  savage  cut  his  bonds, 
grasped  his  hands  with  every  mark  of  delight,  and 
pushed  him  into  the  arms  of  his  friend.  Dumais  pressed 
Archie  to  his  breast,  then  sank  upon  his  knees  and  cried : 


II 


A   NIGHT  AMONG   THE  SAVAGES. 


193 


Iter  for 
soner," 
•oudly ; 
face  !  " 

id  par- 
knew 
in  the 
resence 

brother 

,"  con- 
his  ad- 
Falls  of 
Scotch- 
ouse  of 

I,  "  and 
ver  the 
e  knew 
brother 

king  off 

of  the 

lan  the 

ichoing 
rew  his 
:hought 
to  God. 
bonds, 
ht,  and 
pressed 
i  cried : 


Rw 


I 


"  I  have  prayed  to  thee,  O  God,  to  extend  the  right 
arm  of  your  protection  over  this  noble  and  generous 
man.  My  wife  and  my  children  have  never  ceased  to 
make  the  same  prayer.  I  thank  thee,  O  God,  that  thou 
hast  granted  me  even  more  than  I  had  dared  to  ask. 
I  thank  thee,  O  God,  for  I  should  have  committed  a 
crime  to  save  his  life,  and  should  have  gone  to  my  grave 
a  murderer." 

"  Now,"  said  Lochiel,  after  endeavoring  to  thank  his 
rescuer,  '*  let  us  get  off  as  quickly  as  possible,  my  dear 
Dumais  ;  for  if  my  absence  from  camp  is  perceived  I 
am  ruined  utterly.     1  will  explain  as  we  go." 

Just  as  they  were  setting  foot  in  the  canoe  the  cry 
of  the  osprey  was  heard  three  times  from  the  lake  shore 
opposite  the  island.  *'  It  is  the  young  men  from  Marigotte 
coming  to  look  for  you,  my  brother,"  said  Grand- Loutre, 
turning  to  Lochiel.  "  Taoutsi  and  Katakoui  must  have 
met  some  of  them,  and  told  them  they  had  an  English 
prisoner  on  the  island  ;  but  they  will  shout  a  long  time 
without  awakening  Talamousse,  and  as  to  Grand-Loutre, 
he  is  going  to  sleep  till  the  Canadian  gets  back.  Bon 
voyage^  my  brothers."  As  Archie  and  his  companion 
directed  their  course  toward  the  north  they  heard  for  a 
long  time  the  cries  of  the  osprey,  which  were  uttered  at 
short  intervals  by  the  Indians  on  the  south  shore. 

"  I  fear,"  said  Archie,  "  that  the  young  Ab^naquis 
warriors,  foiled  in  their  amiable  intent,  will  make  a  bad 
quarter  of  an  hour  for  our  friends  on  the  island." 

"  It  is  true,"  replied  his  companion,  *'  that  we  are 
depriving  them  of  a  very  great  pleasure.  They  find  the 
time  long  at  Marigotte,  and  to-morrow  might  have  been 
passed  very  pleasantly  in  roasting  a  prisoner." 

Lochiel  shuddered  in  spite  of  himself. 

*'  As  for  the  two  canaouas  (red  rascals)  we  have  left, 
do  not  trouble  yourself  for  them,  they  will  know  how  to 
13 


I 


■•  J 


'> 


194 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


m 


get  out  of  the  scrape.  The  Indian  is  the  most  independ- 
ent being  imaginable,  and  renders  account  to  nobody 
for  his  actions  unless  it  suits  him.  Moreover,  the  worst 
that  could  happen  to  them  in  the  present  instance  would 
be,  using  their  own  expression,  to  cover  the  half  of  the 
prisoner  with  beaver  skins  or  their  equivalent — in  other 
words,  to  pay  their  share  in  him  to  Taoutsi  and  Katakoui. 
It  is  more  probable,  however,  that  Grand-Loutre,  who  is 
a  kind  of  a  wag  among  them,  would  choose  rather  to 
raise  a  laugh  at  the  expense  of  his  two  disappointed 
comrades,  for  he  is  never  without  resource.  He  will  say, 
perhaps,  that  Talamousse  and  he  had  a  perfect  right  to 
dispose  of  their  half  of  the  prisoner  ;  that  the  half  which 
they  had  set  free  had  run  away  with  the  other  half; 
that  they  had  better  hurry  after  him,  for  the  prisoner  was 
loaded  with  their  share  of  himself  and  therefore  could 
not  travel  very  fast ;  with  other  waggery  that  would  be 
hugely  relished  by  the  Indians.  It  is  more  probable, 
however,  that  he  will  speak  to  them  of  my  adventure  at 
the  falls  of  St.  Thomas,  which  the  Ab^naquis  know 
about,  and  will  tell  them  that  it  was  to  your  devotion  I 
owed  my  life.  Then,  as  the  Indians  never  forget  a  good 
turn,  they  will  cry,  *  Our  brothers  have  done  well  to  set 
free  the  savior  of  our  friend  the  pale  face !  *  " 

Lochiel  wished  to  enter  into  full  details  in  order  to 
excuse  himself  in  the  eyes  of  Dumais  for  his  cruel  con- 
duct on  the  day  preceding ;  but  the  latter  stopped  him. 

**A  man  like  you,  sir,"  said  the  Canadian,  "  need 
make  me  no  explanation.  I  could  hardly  suspect  a 
heart  so  noble  and  so  self-forgetful  of  failing  at  all  in 
the  sentiments  of  humanity  and  gratitude.  I  am  a 
soldier,  and  I  know  all  the  duties  imposed  upon  one  by 
military  discipline.  I  have  assisted  at  hideous  perform- 
ances on  the  part  of  our  barbarous  allies,  which  in  my 
position   as  sergeant  I  might  have  been  able  to  pre- 


II 


A  NIGHT  AMONG   THE  SAVAGES. 


195 


cpend- 
lobody 
e  worst 
;  would 

of  the 
n  other 
takoui. 

who  is 
ther  to 
pointed 
nil  say, 
right  to 
f  which 
r  half ; 
ner  was 
e  could 
mid  be 
obable, 
iture  at 
know 

otion  I 

a  good 
I  to  set 

>rder  to 

lel  con- 

d  him. 

"  need 

pect  a 

t  all  in 

I  am  a 

one  by 

erform- 

1  in  my 

to  pre- 


vent had  not  my  hands  been  tied  by  the  orders  of  my 
superiors.  It  is  a  hard  calling  lor  sympathetic  hearts, 
this  profession  of  ours. 

"  I  have  been  witness  of  a  spectacle,"  continued  Du- 
mais,  "  which  makes  me  shudder  now  when  I  think  of  it. 
I  have  seen  these  barbarians  burn  an  English  woman. 
She  was  a  young  woman  of  great  beauty.  I  still  see  her 
tied  to  the  stake,  where  they  tortured  her  for  eight  mor- 
tal hours.  I  still  see  her  in  the  midst  of  her  butchers, 
clothed,  like  our  first  mother,  in  nothing  but  her  long, 
fair  hair.  I  shall  hear  forever  her  heart-rending  cry  of 
*  My  God  !  my  God  ! '  We  did  all  we  could  to  buy  her 
back,  but  in  vain  ;  for  her  father,  her  husband,  and  her 
brothers,  in  defending  her  with  the  courage  of  despair, 
had  killed  many  of  the  savages,  and  among  them  two  of 
their  chiefs.  We  were  but  fifteen  Canadians,  against  at 
least  two  hundred  Indians.  I  was  young  then,  and  I 
wept  like  a  child.  Ducros,  who  was  nicknamed  the 
Terror,  foamed  with  rage  and  cried  to  Francceur :  *  What ! 
sergeant,  shall  we,  who  are  men  and  Frenchmen,  let 
them  burn  a  poor  woman  before  our  eyes  ?  Give  the 
order,  sergeant,  and  I  will  split  the  skulls  of  ten  of  these 
red  hounds  before  they  have  time  to  defend  themselves.* 
And  he  would  have  done  it,  for  he  was  a  mighty  man — 
was  the  Terror — and  quick  as  a  fish.  Black  Bear,  one 
of  their  greatest  warriors,  approached  us  with  a  sneer. 
Ducros  sprang  toward  him  with  his  tomahawk  uplifted, 
crying  :  *  Take  your  hatchet,  coward,  and  you  shall  see 
that  you  have  no  woman  to  deal  with ! '  The  Indian 
shrugged  his  shoulders  with  an  air  of  pity,  and  said 
slowly ;  *  The  pale  face  is  childish ;  he  would  kill  his 
friend  to  defend  the  squaw  of  a  dog  of  an  Englishman, 
his  enemy.'  The  sergeant  put  an  end  to  the  argument 
by  ordering  Ducros  back  into  the  ranks.  He  was  a 
brave  and  generous  heart,  this  sergeant,  as  his  name  at- 


196 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD, 


lii 


...i^ii 


tested.  With  tears  in  his  eyes,  he  said  to  us  :  *  It  would 
be  useless  for  me  to  disobey  my  orders  •  we  would  all  be 
massacred  without  doing  the  poor  woman  any  good. 
What  would  be  the  consequence  ?  The  great  tribe  of 
the  Ab^naquis  would  forsake  its  alliance  with  the 
French,  would  join  our  enemies,  and  our  own  women 
and  children  would  share  the  fate  of  this  unhappy  Eng- 
lish woman.  Their  blood  would  be  upon  my  head.' 
Well,  Mr.  Archie,  for  six  months  after  this  hideous 
scene  I  used  to  start  from  my  sleep  bathed  in  sweat, 
with  those  heart-rending  cries  of  *  My  God  !  My  God  ! ' 
shrieking  in  my  ears.  They  wondered  at  my  coolness 
when  the  ice  was  bearing  me  down  to  the  falls  of  St. 
Thomas.  Here  is  the  explanation  of  it.  Through  the 
tumult  and  uproar  I  was  hearing  the  screams  of  the  un- 
happy English  woman,  and  I  believed  that  Heaven  was 
punishing  me,  as  I  deserved,  for  not  having  succored 
her.  For,  you  see,  Mr.  Archie,  that  man  often  makes 
laws  which  God  is  very  far  from  sanctioning." 

"  True,  indeed,"  said  Archie,  sighing. 

During  the  rest  of  their  journey  the  two  friends 
talked  about  the  D'Habervilles.  Archie  learned  that  the 
ladies  and  Uncle  Raoul,  on  the  appearance  of  the  Eng- 
lish fleet  in  the  St.  Lawrence,  had  taken  refuge  within 
the  walls  of  Quebec.  Captain  d'Haberville  and  Jules 
were  in  camp  at  Beaupr^,  with  their  respective  regi- 
ments. 

Fearing  lest  Archie  should  fall  in  with  some  of  the 
Ab^naquis  spies  who  were  hanging  on  the  skirts  of  the 
English,  he  escorted  Archie  all  the  way  to  his  encamp- 
ment.    Archie's  parting  words  were  as  follows  : 

**  You  have  paid  me  life  for  life,  my  friend  ;  but,  for 
my  part,  I  shall  never  forget  what  I  owe  you.  How 
strangely  our  lives  have  come  together,  Dumais  !  Two 
years  ago  I  came  all  the  way  from  Quebec  to  South 


pi 


■■■',  J#' 


A   NIGHT  AMONG   THE  SAVAGES. 


197 


River  just  in  time  to  snatch  you  from  the  abyss.  Yes- 
terday, having  but  just  landed  from  a  voyage  across  the 
ocean,  I  am  made  prisoner ;  and  you  find  yourself  wait- 
ing on  a  little  island  in  Trois-Saumons  Lake  to  save  my 
honor  and  my  life.  The  hand  of  God  is  in  it.  Fare- 
well, dear  friend.  However  adventurous  the  soldier's 
career,  I  cling  to  the  hope  that  Fate  will  bring  us  again 
together,  and  that  I  may  give  your  children  further 
cause  to  bless  my  memory." 

When  the  sun  arose,  the  Highlanders  remarked  the 
strange  pallor  of  their  young  chief.  They  concluded 
that,  dreading  a  surprise,  he  had  passed  the  night  in 
wandering  about  the  camp.  After  a  light  meal,  Archie 
gave  the  order  to  burn  the  house  beside  the  mill.  He 
had  scarcely  resumed  the  march  when  a  messenger  came 
from  Montgomery,  ordering  him  to  cease  from  the  work 
of  destruction. 

"  It  is  time  !  "  cried  Archie,  gnawing  his  sword-hilt. 


I'iHI 


'III  I 


CHAPTER   XIV. 


THE   PLAINS   OF    ABRAHAM. 


!1  est  des  occasions  dans  la  guerre  oCi  le  plus  brave  doit  fuir. 

Cervantes. 

Viae  viciis  !  says  the  wisdom  of  the  nations.  Woe  to 
the  conquered  ! — not  only  because  of  the  ruin  which 
follows  defeat,  but  because  the  vanquished  are  always 
in  the  wrong.  They  suffer  materially,  they  suffer  in 
their  wounded  self-love,  they  suffer  in  their  reputation 
as  soldiers.  Let  them  have  fought  one  against  twenty, 
let  them  have  performed  prodigies  of  heroism,  they  are 
nevertheless  and  always  the  vanquished.  Even  their 
fellow-countrymen  forgive  them  hardly.  History  re- 
cords but  their  defeat.  Here  and  there  they  get  a  word 
of  approval  from  some  writer  of  their  race ;  but  the 
praise  is  almost  always  mixed  with  reproach.  Pen  and 
compass  in  hand,  we  fight  the  battle  over  again.  We 
teach  the  generals,  whose  bodies  rest  on  the  well-fought 
field,  how  they  might  have  managed  affairs  much  better. 
Seated  in  a  well-stuffed  arm-chair,  we  proudly  demon- 
strate the  skillful  manoeuvres  by  which  they  might  have 
snatched  the  victory ;  and  bitterly  we  reproach  them 
with  their  defeat.  They  have  deserved  a  more  gener- 
ous treatment.  A  great  general,  who  has  equaled  in 
our  own  day  the  exploits  of  Alexander  and  of  Caesar, 
has  said  :  ''  Who  is  he  that  has  never  made  a  mistake  in 
battle?"     VaevictisI         '^    " 


i* 


THE  PLAINS  OF  ABRAHAM. 


199 


ir. 

ANTES. 

Woe  to 
I  which 
always 
jffer  in 
)utation 
twenty; 
;hey  are 
;n  their 
■ory  re- 
;  a  word 
but  the 
Pen  and 
in.  We 
1-fought 
1  better, 
demon- 
;ht  have 
:h  them 
I  gener- 
laled  in 
■  Caesar, 
LStakw  in 


It  was  the  13th  day  of  September,  1759,  a  day  ac- 
cursed in  the  annals  of  France.  The  English  army, 
under  General  Wolfe,  after  having  eluded  the  vigilance 
of  the  French  sentinels  and  surprised  the  pickets  under 
cover  of  the  darkness,  were  discovered  at  daybreak  on 
the  Plains  of  Abraham,  where  they  were  beginning  to 
entrench  themselves.  Montcalm  was  either  carried 
away  by  his  chivalrous  courage,  or  he  concluded  that 
the  work  of  entrenchment  had  to  be  at  once  interrupted; 
for  he  attacked  the  English  with  only  a  portion  of  his 
troops,  and  was  defeated,  as  he  might  have  foreseen,  by 
the  overwhelming  numbers  of  the  enemy.  On  this 
memorable  battle  field  both  generals  laid  down  their 
lives — Wolfe  bestowing  upon  his  country  a  colony  half 
as  large  as  Europe,  Montcalm  losing  to  France  a  vast 
territory  which  the  King  and  his  improvident  ministers 
knew  not  how  to  appreciate. 

Woe  to  the  vanquished  !  Had  Montcalm  been  vic- 
torious he  would  have  been  lauded  to  the  skies,  instead 
of  being  heaped  with  reproaches  for  not  awaiting  the 
re-enforcements  which  would  have  come  from  De  Vau- 
dreuil  and  De  Bougainville.  We  would  have  praised 
his  tactics  in  hurling  himself  upon  the  enemy  before  the 
latter  had  had  time  to  establish  himself.  We  would 
have  said  that  a  hundred  men  behind  cover  were  equal 
to  a  thousand  in  the  open.  We  would  never  have  im- 
puted to  General  Montcalm  any  jealous  and  unworthy 
motives.  His  shining  laurels,  gained  on  so  many  glori- 
ous fields,  would  have  shielded  him  from  any  such  sus- 
picions. 

Vae  victis!  After  the  fatal  battle  of  the  13th  the 
city  of  Quebec  was  little  more  than  a  heap  of  ruins. 
Not  even  the  fortifications  furnished  shelter,  for  a  por- 
tion of  the  ramparts  had  been  shattered  to  fragments. 
The  magazines  were  empty  of  ammunition,  and  the  gun- 


200 


THE   CANADIANS  OF  OLD, 


ners,  rather  to  conceal  tiieir  distress  than  with  any  hope 
of  injuring  the  enemy,  answered  the  English  batteries 
only  with  an  occasional  cannon-shot.  There  were  no 
provisions  left.  Yet  they  bring  the  charge  of  cowardice 
against  ihe  brave  garrison  which  endured  so  much  and 
defended  itself  so  valiantly.  If  the  governor,  a  new 
Nostradamus,  had  known  that  the  Chevalier  de  Levis 
was  bringing  succor  to  the  city,  and,  instead  of  capitu- 
lating, had  awaited  the  arrival  of  the  French  troops,  it 
is  certain  that  the  garrison  would  have  been  lavishly 
applauded  for  its  courage.  To  be  sure  the  garrison 
showed  itself  most  pusillanimous  in  giving  up  a  city 
which  it  was  no  longer  able  to  defend  !  To  be  sure  it 
should  rather  have  put  its  trust  in  the  humanity  of  an 
enemy  who  had  already  carried  fire  and  sword  through 
all  the  peaceful  villages,  and  should  have  refused  to  con- 
sider the  lives  of  the  citizens,  the  honor  of  their  wives 
and  daughters,  exposed  to  all  the  horrors  of  a  capture 
by  assault !  Assuredly  this  unhappy  garrison  was  very 
pusillanimous  !     Woe  to  the  vanquished  ! 

After  the  capitulation  the  English  left  nothing  un- 
done to  secure  themselves  in  the  possession  of  a  place 
so  important.  The  walls  were  rebuilt,  new  fortifications 
added,  and  the  batteries  immensely  strengthened.  It 
was  conceivable  that  the  besiegers  might  become  the 
besieged.  This  foresight  was  justified,  for  in  the  fol- 
lowing spring  General  L^vis  took  the  offensive  with  an 
army  of  eight  thousand  men,  made  up  of  regulars  and 
militia  in  about  equal  numbers. 

'"  At  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning,  April  28,  1760,  the 
Er  glish  army  was  drawn  up  in  order  of  battle  on  the 
sr  ne  field  where  it  had  moved  to  victory  seven  months 
before.  General  Murray,  with  this  army  of  six  thousand 
men  and  twenty  guns,  held  a  very  strong  position,  while 
the  French  army,  a  little  more  numerous,  but  supported 


-.*♦> 


THE  PLAINS  OF  ABRAHAM. 


201 


ny  hope 

Datteries 

were  no 

>wardice 

uch  and 

,  a  new 

e  Levis 

capita- 

roops,  it 

lavishly 

garrison 

3  a  city 

e  sure  it 

ty  of  an 

through 

t  to  con- 

:ir  wives 

capture 

^as  very 

ling  un- 
■  a  place 
Bcations 
ned.  It 
Dme  the 
the  fol- 
with  an 
ars  and 

760,  the 
on  the 
months 
thousand 
n,  while 
pported 


by  only  two  guns,  occupied  the  heights  of  St.  Foy. 
The  French  were  wearied  with  their  painful  march  over 
the  marshes  of  Jl.a  Su^de,  but  they  burned  to  wipe  out 
the  memory  of  their  defeat.  The  hate  of  centuries 
stirred  the  bosoms  of  both  armies.  The  courage  of 
both  was  beyond  question,  and  fifteen  thousand  of  the 
best  troops  in  the  world  only  awaited  the  word  of  their 
commanders  to  spring  at  each  other's  throats. 

Jules  d'Haberville,  who  had  distinguished  himself  in 
the  first  battle  on  the  Plains  of  Abraham,  was  with  a  de- 
tachment commanded  by  Captain  d'Aiguebelle.  By 
order  of  General  de  L^vis,  this  detachment  had  at  first 
abandoned  Dumont's  mill  under  the  attack  of  a  much 
superior  force.  Jules  was  severely  wounded  by  the  ex- 
plosion of  a  shell,  which  had  shattered  his  left  arm,  but 
he  refused  to  go  to  the  rear.  Presently  the  general  con- 
cluded that  the  mill  was  a  position  of  supreme  impor- 
tance, and,  when  he  gave  the  order  to  recapture  it,  Jules 
led  his  company  to  the  charge,  carrying  his  arm  in  a 
sling. 

Almost  all  Murray's  artillery  was  directed  to  the 
maintenance  of  this  position.  The  French  grenadiers 
charged  on  the  run.  The  bullets  and  grape  decimated 
their  ranks,  but  they  closed  up  as  accurately  as  if  they 
were  on  parade.  The  mill  was  taken  and  retaken  sev- 
eral times  during  this  memorable  struggle.  Jules 
d'Haberville,  "the  little  grenadier,"  as  the  soldiers 
called  him,  had  hurled  himself,  sword  in  hand,  into  the 
very  midst  of  the  enemy,  who  yielded  ground  for  a  mo- 
ment ;  but  scarcely  had  the  French  established  them- 
selves, when  the  English  returned  to  the  attack  in  over- 
whelming numbers,  and  took  the  position  after  a  most 
bloody  struggle. 

The  French  grenadiers,  thrown  for  a  moment  into 
disorder,  reformed  at  a  little  distance  under  a  scathing 


!:i 


202 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


fire  ;  then,  charging  for  the  third  time,  they  carried  the 
position  at  the  point  of  the  bayonet,  and  held  it. 

One  would  have  thought,  during  this  last  charge, 
that  the  love  of  life  was  extinct  in  the  soul  of  Jules, 
who,  his  heart  torn  by  what  he  thought  the  treason 
of  his  friend,  and  by  the  total  ruin  of  his  family,  ap- 
peared to  seek  death  as  a  blessing.  As  soon  as  the 
order  for  that  third  charge  was  given  he  sprang  forward 
like  a  tiger  with  the  cry  of,  "-4  moi  grenadiers  !'*  and 
hurled  himself  single  handed  upon  the  English.  When 
the  French  found  themselves  masters  of  the  position 
they  drew  Jules  from  under  a  heap  of  dead  and  wounded. 
Seeing  that  he  was  yet  alive,  two  grenadiers  carried  him 
to  a  little  brook  near  the  mill,  where  he  soon  returned 
to  consciousness.  It  was  rather  loss  of  blood  than  the 
severity  of  his  hurt  that  had  caused  the  swoon.  A 
blow  from  a  saber  had  split  his  helmet  and  gashed  his 
head  without  fracturing  the  skull.  Jules  wished  to  re- 
turn to  the  fight,  but  one  of  the  grenadiers  said  to  him  : 

"Not  for  a  little  while,  my  officer.  You  have  had 
enough  for  the  present,  and  the  sun  beats  like  the  devil 
out  there,  which  is  very  dangerous  for  a  wound  on  the 
head.  We  are  going  to  leave  you  in  the  shade  of  these 
trees."  D'Haberville,  too  weak  to  oppose  them  further, 
soon  found  himself  lying  among  a  number  of  the 
wounded,  who  had  had  strength  enough  to  drag  them- 
selves into  the  grove.  Every  one  knows  its  result,  this 
second  battle  of  the  Plains  of  Abraham.  The  victory 
was  dear  bought  by  the  French  and  the  Canadians,  who 
suffered  no  less  severely  than  their  enemies.  It  was  a 
useless  bloodshed.  New  France,  abandoned  by  the 
mothei  country,  was  ceded  to  England  by  the  careless 
Louis  three  years  after  the  battle.  v    z.  . 

Lochiel  had  cleared  himself  nobly  of  tsie  suspicions 
which  his  foe,  Montgomery,  had   sought   to  fix  upon 


P 


THE  PLAINS  OF  ABRAHAM. 


203 


ried  the 

charge, 
•f  Jules, 

treason 
lily,  ap- 

as  the 
forward 

/"  and 
When 
position 
>unded. 
ied  him 
eturned 
lan  the 
on.     A 
led  his 
1  to  re- 
;o  him  : 
ve  had 
le  devil 
on  the 
)f  these 
"urther, 
of  the 
f  them- 
ilt,  this 
victory 
IS,  who 

was  a 
by  the 
areless 

)icions 
:  upon 


him.  His  wide  knowledge,  his  zeal  in  the  study  of  his 
profession,  his  skill  in  all  military  exercises,  his  sobri- 
ety, his  vigilance  when  in  guard  of  a  post,  all  these  had 
put  him  high  in  esteem.  His  dashing  courage  tem- 
pered with  prudence  in  the  attack  on  the  French  lines 
at  Montmorency  and  on  the  field  of  the  first  Battle  of 
the  Plains  had  been  noticed  by  General  Murray,  who 
commended  him  publicly. 

On  the  defeat  of  the  English  army  at  this  second 
battle,  Lochiel,  after  tremendous  fighting  at  the  head  of 
his  Highlanders,  was  the  last  to  yield  a  })osition  which 
he  had  defended  inch  by  inch.  Instead  of  following 
the  throng  of  fugitives  tov/ard  Quebec,  he  noticed  t^'t 
Dumont's  Mill  was  now  evacuated  by  the  French,  whu 
were  pursuing  their  enemies  with  great  slaughter.  To 
conceal  his  route  from  the  enemy,  Archie  led  his  men 
between  the  mill  and  the  adjoining  wood.  Just  then  he 
heard  some  one  calling  his  name  ;  and  turning,  he  saw 
an  officer,  his  arm  in  a  sling,  his  uniform  in  tatters,  his 
head  wrapped  in  a  bloody  cloth,  staggering  to  meet  him 
sword  in  hand. 

"  What  are  you  doing,  brave  Cameron  of  Lochiel  ? " 
cried  the  unknown.  "  The  mill  has  been  evacuated  by 
our  brave  soldiers,  and  is  no  longer  defended  by  women 
and  children  and  feeble  old  men.  Return,  valorous 
Cameron,  and  crown  your  exploits  by  burning  it  down." 

It  was  impossible  to  mistake  the  mocking  voice  of 
Jules  d'Haberville,  although  his  face  was  unrecognizable 
for  blood  and  powder. 

On  hearing  these  insulting  words,  Archie  felt  nothing 
but  tenderest  loving  pity  for  the  friend  of  his  youth.  His 
heart  beat  as  if  to  break  ;  a  sob  labored  from  his  bosom, 
and  again  he  seemed  to  hear  the  witch  of  the  manor  cry- 
ing ominously :  "  Keep  your  pity  for  yourself,  Archibald 
de  Lochiel.     You  will  have  need  of  it  all  on  that  day 


204 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


when  you  shall  carry  in  your  arms  the  bleeding  body  of 
him  you  now  call  your  brother !  " 

Forgetting  the  critical  position  in  which  he  was  keep- 
ing his  men,  Archie  halted  his  company  and  went  for- 
ward to  meet  Jules.  For  one  moment  all  the  young 
Frenchman's  love  for  his  adopted  brother  seemed  to 
revive,  but,  restraining  himself  sternly,  he  cried  in  a 
bitter  voice : 

"  Defend  yourself,  M.  de  Lochiel  ;  you,  who  love 
easy  triumphs,  defend  yourself,  traitor  !  " 

At  this  new  insult,  Archie  folded  his  arms  and  an- 
swered, in  a  tone  of  tender  reproach : 

"  Thou,  too,  my  brother  Jules,  even  thou,  too,  hast 
thou  condemned  me  unheard  ?  " 

At  these  words  a  nervous  shock  seemed  to  paralyze 
the  little  remaining  strength  of  poor  Jules.  The  sword 
dropped  from  his  hand  and  he  fell  forward  on  his  face. 
Archie  sent  one  of  his  men  to  the  brook  for  water,  and, 
without  thinking  of  the  danger  to  which  he  exposed 
himself,  took  his  friend  in  his  arms  and  carried  him  to 
the  edge  of  the  woods,  where  some  of  the  wounded  Ca- 
nadians, touched  at  the  sight  of  an  Englishman  bestow- 
ing so  much  care  on  their  young  officer,  made  no  move 
to  injure  him,  although  they  had  reloaded  their  guns  at 
the  approach  of  his  men.  Archie  examined  his  friend's 
wounds,  and  saw  that  he  had  fainted  from  loss  of  blood. 
A  little  cold  water  in  his  face  soon  brought  him  back 
to  consciousness.  He  opened  his  eyes  and  looked  at 
Archie,  but  made  no  attempt  to  speak.  The  latter 
clasped  his  hand,  which  seemed  to  return  a  gentle 
pressure. 

**  Farewell,  Jules,"  said  Archie.  **  Farewell,  my 
brother.  Harsh  duty  forces  me  to  leave  you  ;  but  we 
shall  meet  again,  in  better  days."  And  he  turned  back 
sorrowfully  to  his  troop. 


ri/E  PLAINS  OF  ABRAHAM. 


205 


g  body  of 

was  keep- 
went  for- 
he  young 
eemed  to 
ried  in  a 

who  love 

;  and  an- 

too,  hast 

paralyze 
he  sword 

his  face. 
Iter,  and, 

exposed 
d  him  to 

ded  Ca- 

bestow- 
10  move 
•  guns  at 

friend's 
)f  blood, 
im  back 
oked  at 
e  latter 
L  gentle 

ell,    my 

but  we 

ed  back 


"  Now,  my  boys,"  said  Lochiel,  after  throwing  a  rapid 
glance  over  the  plain  ctnd  listening  to  the  confused  noises 
of  the  distant  flight,  "  now,  my  boys,  no  false  delicacy, 
for  the  battle  is  hopelessly  lost.  We  must  now  display 
the  agility  of  our  Highland  legs,  if  we  want  to  take  a 
hand  in  future  battles.  '  Forward  now,  and  do  not  lose 
sight  of  me." 

Taking  advantage  of  every  inequality  of  the  ground, 
lending  heedful  ear  to  the  shouts  of  the  French,  who 
were  endeavoring  to  crowd  the  English  into  the  St. 
Charles,  Lochiel  led  his  men  into  Quebec  without  fur- 
ther loss.  This  valiant  company  had  already  suffered 
enough.  Half  its  men  had  been  left  on  the  field  of  bat- 
tle, and  of  its  officers  Lochiel  was  the  sole  survivor. 

All  honor  to  vanquished  heroism  !  Honor  to  the 
English  dead,  whose  bodies  were  buried  in  confusion 
with  those  of.  their  enemies  on  the  twenty-eighth  day  of 
April,  1760!  Honor  to  the  soldiers  of  France,  over 
whose  bodies  grows  green,  with  every  succeeding  spring, 
the  turf  of  the  Plains  of  Abraham  !  When  the  last 
trump  shall  sound,  and  these  foes  shall  rise  from  their 
last  sleep  side  by  side,  will  they  have  forgotten  their 
ancient  hate,  or  will  they  spring  once  more  at  each  other's 
throats  ? 

Honor  to  the  vanquished  brave !  Among  the  sol- 
diers whose  names  are  bright  on  the  pages  of  history 
there  is  but  one  who,  on  the  morrow  of  a  glorious  tri- 
umph, uncovered  his  head  before  his  captives  and  cried, 
"  All  honor  to  the  vanquished  brave !  "  He  knew  that 
his  words  would  last  forever,  graven  on  the  heart  of 
France.  Great  soldiers  there  are  many ;  but  niggard 
Nature  takes  centuries  to  frame  a  hero. 

The  field  of  battle  after  the  victory  presented  a 
ghastly  sight.  Men  and  horses,  the  wounded  and  the 
dead,  were  frozen  into  the  mire  of  blood  and  water,  and 


2o6 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD, 


I  ri 


could  be  extricated  only  with  pain  and  difficulty.  The 
wounded  of  both  nations  were  treated  by  the  Chevalier 
de  Levis  with  the  same  tender  care.  Most  of  them  were 
carried  to  the  Convent  of  the  Hospital  Nuns.  The  con- 
vent and  all  its  outbuildings  were  crowded.  All  the 
linen,  all  the  clothing  of  the  inmates  was  torn  up  for 
bandages,  and  the  good  nuns  had  nothing  left  for  them- 
selves but  the  clothes  they  were  wearing  upon  the  day 
of  battle. 

Taking  refuge  after  his  defeat  behind  the  ramparts 
of  Quebec,  General  Murray  made  a  vigorous  resistance. 
As  they  had  but  twenty  guns  with  which  to  arm  their 
siege-batteries,  the  French  could  do  little  more  than 
blockade  the  city  and  wait  for  the  re-enforcements  which 
never  came.  The  English  general  requested  permission 
to  send  an  officer  three  times  a  week  to  visit  his  wounded 
in  the  hospital.  This  request  was  readily  granted  by 
the  humane  De  L^vis.  Lochiel  knew  that  his  friend 
must  be  lying  in  the  hospital,  but  he  could  get  no  news 
of  him.  Although  consumed  with  anxiety,  he  dreaded 
to  put  himself  in  a  false  position  by  inquiries  too  minute. 
It  might  have  been  considered  natural  that  he  would 
wish  to  visit  his  wounded  countrymen,  but  with  true 
Scotch  caution  he  let  none  of  his  anxiety  appear.  It  was 
not  till  the  tenth  day  after  the  battle,  when  his  regular 
turn  came,  that  he  found  himself  approaching  the  hos- 
pital under  the  escort  of  a  French  officer. 

"  I  wonder,"  said  Lochiel,  "  if  you  would  consider  it 
an  indiscretion  on  my  part  were  I  to  ask  for  a  private 
interview  with  the  lady  superior .?  " 

*'  I  see  no  indiscretion  in  it,"  answered  the  French- 
man," but  I  fear  I  would  be  exceeding  my  orders  were  I 
to  permit  it.  I  am  ordered  to  lead  you  to  your  country- 
men and  nothing  more."      '         -i*    ^^     ivt 

"I  am  sorry,"  said  the  Scotchman  indifferently.    "  It 


THE  PLAINS  OF  ABRAHAM, 


207 


jr.  The 
hevalier 
em  were 
rhe  con- 
All  the 
up  for 
)r  them- 
the  day 

amparts 
dstance. 
m  their 
re  than 
ts  which 
rmission 
mounded 
nted  by 
s  friend 
no  news 
dreaded 
minute. 

would 
ith  true 

It  was 
regular 
;he  hos- 

isider  it 
private 

^'rench- 
were  I 
ountry- 


is  a  little  disappointing  to  me ;  but  let  us  speak  no  more 
of  it." 

The  French  ofificer  was  silent  some  minutes ;  he 
thought  to  himself  that  the  Scotchman,  speaking  P'rench 
like  a  Parisian,  had  probably  made  the  acquaintance  of 
some  Canadian  families  shut  up  in  Quebec ;  that  he  was 
perhaps  charged  with  some  message  from  the  relations 
or  friends  of  the  superior,  and  that  it  would  be  cruel  to 
refuse  his  request.     Presently  he  said : 

"  As  I  am  persuade^  that  neither  you  nor  the  lady 
superior  can  be  forming  any  designs  against  our  bat- 
teries, I  think  that  perhaps,  after  all,  I  might  grant  your 
request  without  exceeding  my  duty." 

Lochiel,  who  had  been  staking  all  his  hopes  of  a  rec- 
onciliation with  the  D'Habervilles  upon  this  interview, 
could  scarcely  conceal  his  joy ;  but  he  answered  qui- 
etly : 

"  Thank  you,  monsieur,  for  your  courtesy  to  myself 
and  the  good  lady.  Your  batteries,  protected  by  French 
valor,  might  feel  reasonably  secure  even  if  we  were  con- 
spiring against  them." 

The  corridors  of  the  hospital  which  he  had  to  trav- 
erse before  reaching  the  parlor  of  the  superior  were  lit- 
erally thronged  with  the  wounded ;  but  Archie,  seeing 
none  of  his  own  men,  hastened  on.  After  ringing  the 
bell,  he  walked  restlessly  up  and  down  the  room.  It 
was  the  same  room  in  which  he  and  Jules  had  had  so 
many  a  dainty  lunch  in  their  happy  school  days  ;  for  the 
good  superior  was  Jules's  aunt. 

The  superior  received  him  with  cold  politeness,  and 
said  : 

;     "  I  am  very  sorry  to  have  kept  you  waiting,  sir  ;  please 
take  a  seat/'  ^  > 

"  I  fear,"  said  Archie,  "  that  madam  does  not  recog- 


v. 


"It 


nize  me. 


\r. 


208 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


m, 


m 


**  A  thousand  pardons,"  replied  the  superior.  "  You 
are  Mr.  Archibald  Cameron  of  Lochiel." 

*'  Once  you  called  me  Archie,"  said  the  young  man. 

**  The  times  are  changed,  sir,"  replied  the  nun,  "  and 
many  things  have  happened  since  those  days." 

Sighing  deeply,  Lochiel  echoed  her  words : 

*'  The  times  are  indeed  changed,  and  many  things 
have  happened  since  those  days.  But  at  least,  madam, 
tell  me  how  is  my  brother,  Jules  d'Haberville?" 

"  He  whom  you  once  called  your  brother,  sir,  is  now, 
I  hope,  out  of  danger." 

"  Thank  God  !  "  answered  Lochiel,  "  now  all  hope  is 
not  utterly  dead  in  my  heart  !  If  I  were  speaking  to  an 
ordinary  person  there  would  be  nothing  more  for  me  to 
do  but  thank  you  for  your  condescension  and  retire  ; 
but  I  have  the  honor  to  address  the  sister  of  a  brave  sol- 
dier, the  inheritor  of  a  name  made  illustrious  by  many 
heroic  deeds  ;  and  if  madam  will  permit,  if  she  will  for- 
get for  a  moment  the  ties  which  bind  me  to  her  family, 
if  she  will  judge  impartially  between  me  and  that  family, 
then  I  might  dare  attempt,  with  some  hope  of  success, 
to  justify  myself  before  her." 

**  Speak,  M.  de  Lochiel,"  replied  the  superior,  *^and 
I  will  listen,  not  as  a  D'Haberville  but  as  a  stranger.  It 
is  my  duty  as  a  Christian  to  hear  impartially  anything 
that  might  palliate  your  barbarous  and  heartless  con- 
duct toward  a  family  that  loved  you  so  well." 

The  sudden  flush  which  covered  the  young  man's 
face  was  followed  by  a  pallor  so  ghastly  that  the  supe- 
rior thought  he  was  about  to  faint.  He  grasped  the 
grating  between  them  with  both  hands,  and  leaned  his 
head  against  it  for  some  moments  ;  then,  mastering  his 
emotion,  he  told  his  story  as  the  reader  already  knows  it. 

Archie  went  into  the  most  minute  details,  down  to 
his  misgivings  when  his  regiment  was  ordered  to  leave 


;0j 


% 


THE  PLAINS  OF  ABRAHAM. 


209 


"You 


\  man. 
I,  "  and 


things 
nadam, 

is  now, 


hope  is 

g  to  an 

r  me  to 

retire  ; 

ive  sol- 

y  many 
vill  for- 

family, 
family. 

uccess, 

i 

,  "  and 

jer.    It 

./ 

jything 
>s  con- 

it 

If 

man's 

i  supe- 
ed  the 

led  his 

ng  his 

lows  it. 

own  to 

>  leave 

"J 

for  Canada,  down  to  the  hereditary  hatred  of  the  Mont- 
gomerys  for  the  Camerons  ;  and  he  accused  himself  of 
cowardice  in  not  having  sacrificed  even  his  honor  to  the 
gratitude  he  owed  the  D'Habervilles.  From  the  utter- 
ance of  Montgomery's  barbarous  order  he  omitted  not 
the  smallest  incident.  He  described  the  anguish  of  his 
despair,  his  curses,  and  his  vows  of  vengeance  against 
Montgomery.  In  painting  the  emotions  which  had  tort- 
ured his  soul,  Lochiel  had  small  need  to  add  anything 
in  the  way  of  justification.  What  argument  could  be 
more  eloquent  than  the  plain  story  of  his  despair ! 
Lochiel's  judge  was  one  well  fitted  to  understand  him, 
for  she  it  was  who  in  her  youth  had  one  day  said  to  her 
brother  Captain  d'Haberville  :  "  My  brother,  you  have 
not  the  means  to  worthily  sustain  the  dignity  o'l  our 
house,  except  with  the  help  of  my  share  of  the  patri- 
mony. To-morrow  I  enter  a  convent.  Here  is  the  deed 
wherein  I  renounce  all  claim  in  your  favor." 

The  good  woman  had  heard  Archie's  story  with  ever- 
increasing  emotion.  She  stretched  out  her  clasped 
hands  to  him  as  he  described  his  anguished  imprecations 
against  Montgomery.  The  tears  flowed  down  her  cheeks 
as  he  described  his  remorse  and  his  resignation  while, 
bound  to  the  tree,  he  awaited  a  hideous  death. 

"  My  dear  Archie,"  exclaimed  the  holy  woman. 

"  Oh  !  thank  you,  thank  you  a  thousand  times  for 
those  words,"  cried  Lochiel,  clasping  his  hands. 

"  My  dear  Archie,"  exclaimed  the  superior,  "  I  ab- 
solve you  with  all  my  heart.  You  have  but  done  your 
painful  duty  in  obeying  your  orders.  By  any  other 
course  you  would  have  destroyed  yourself  irretrievably 
without  preventing  the  ruin  of  our  family.  Yes,  I  for- 
give you  freely,  but  I  hope  that  you  will  now  pardon 
your  enemy." 

"  He  who  was  my  enemy,  madam,  has  gone  to  solicit 


2IO 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


Tm 


pardon  from  him  who  will  judge  us  all.  He  was  one  of 
the  first  to  fly  from  the  field  of  battle  which  proved  so 
disastrous  to  our  arms.  A  bullet  stretched  him  upon  the 
ice,  wounded  to  the  death.  He  had  not  even  a  stone 
on  which  to  rest  his  head.  A  tomahawk  ended  his  suf- 
ferings, and  his  scalp  hangs  now  at  the  belt  of  an  Ab^na- 
quis  warrior.  May  God  pardon  him,  as  I  do,  with  all 
my  heart ! " 

A  divine  light  beamed  softly  in  the  eyes  of  the  nun. 
Born  as  revengeful  as  her  brother  the  seigneur,  her  re- 
ligion of  love  and  charity  had  made  her  as  all  charitable 
as  itself.     After  a  moment  of  rapt  meditation,  she  said  : 

"  With  Jules,  I  doubt  not,  you  will  find  reconciliation 
easy.  He  has  been  at  death's  door.  During  his  delir- 
ium your  name  was  forever  on  his  lips,  sometimes  with 
the  fiercest  reproaches,  but  more  often  with  words  of  love 
and  tenderest  endearment.  One  must  know  my  nephew 
well,  must  know  the  sublime  tfelf-abnegation  of  which 
his  soul  is  capable,  in  order  to  comprehend  his  love  for 
you.  Many  a  time  has  he  said  to  me  :  '  If  it  were  neces- 
sary for  me  to-morrow  to  sacrifice  my  life  for  Archie,  I 
would  die  with  a  smile  on  my  lips,  for  I  should  be  giving 
him  the  only  worthy  proof  of  my  love.'  Such  love,  in  a 
heart  so  noble  as  his,  is  not  soon  or  easily  extinguished. 
He  will  rejoice  to  hear  your  justification  from  my  lips, 
and  you  may  be  sure  that  I  will  spare  no  effort  to  re- 
unite you.  Since  recovering  from  his  delirium  he  has 
never  mentioned  your  name  ;  and  as  he  is  yet  too  weak 
to  discuss  a  subject  that  would  excite  so  much  emotion, 
I  must  wait  till  he  gets  stronger.  I  shall  hope  to  have 
good  news  for  you  at  our  next  interview.  Meanwhile, 
farewell  till  I  see  you  again  !  " 

"  Pray  for  me,  madam,  for  I  have  great  need  of  it," 
exclaimed  Archie. 

"  That  is  what  I  do  daily,"  answered  the  nun.   "  They 


THE  PLAINS  OF  ABRAHAM, 


211 


IS  one  of 

roved  so 

upon  the 

a  stone 

his  suf- 

1  Ab^na- 

with  all 

the  nun. 
•,  her  re- 
haritable 
)he  said  : 
iciliation 
his  delir- 
mes  with 
is  of  love 
)r  nephew 
of  which 

love  for 
re  neces- 
Archie,  I 
be  giving 
love,  in  a 
iguished. 

my  lips, 

irt  to  re- 

n  he  has 

too  weak 

emotion, 

to  have 
eanwhile, 

ed  of  it," 
"  They 


say,  perhaps  wrongly,  that  people  of  the  world,  and 
young  officers  particularly,  have  more  need  of  prayer 
than  we  ;  but  as  for  you,  Archie,  you  must  have  greatly 
changed  if  you  are  not  one  of  those  who  have  least  need 
of  it,"  she  added,  smiling  affectionately.  **  Farewell 
once  more,  and  God  bless  you,  my  son  !  " 

The  superior  succeeded  in  satisfying  Jules  with  Ar- 
chie's explanation.  About  a  fortnight  after  Archie's 
first  visit,  Jules  was  awaiting  him,  filled  with  a  nervous 
anxiety  to  prove  to  him  that  all  the  old  love  was  yet 
warm  in  his  heart.  It  was  understood  that  there  should 
be  no  allusion  to  certain  events,  too  painful  for  either  to 
dwell  upon. 

Archie  was  ushered  into  a  little  chamber  which  Jules, 
as  nephew  of  the  lady  superior,  was  occupying  in  pref- 
erence to  certain  officers  of  higher  rank.  Jules  stretched 
out  his  arms  and  made  a  vain  effort  to  rise  from  his  arm- 
chair. Archie  threw  himself  upon  his  neck,  and  for  a 
time  neither  spoke. 

D'Habervilie,  after  controlling  his  emotion  with  an 
effort,  was  the  first  to  break  silence  : 

"The  moments  are  precious,  my  dear  Archie,  and 
we  must  endeavor,  if  possible,  to  lift  the  veil  which 
hangs  over  our  future.  We  are  no  longer  children  ; 
we  are  soldiers  fighting  under  glorious  banners,  brothers 
in  love  but  enemies  upon  the  field  of  battle.  I  have 
grown  ten  years  older  during  my  sickneFS.  I  am  no 
longer  the  broken-hearted  young  fool  who  rushed  upon 
the  enemy's  battalions  seeking  death.  No,  my  dear 
brother,  let  us  live  rather  to  see  better  days.  Those  were 
your  last  words  when  you  handed  over  my  bleeding 
body  to  the  care  of  my  grenadiers. 

"You  know  as  well  as  I  the  precarious  condition 
of  this  colony  ;  all  depends  upon  a  mere  throw  of  the 
dice.     If  France  leaves  us  to  our  own  resources,  as  it 


212 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD, 


seems  but  too  nrobabJe  she  will  do,  and  if  your  Govern- 
ment, attaching  so  grand  an  importance  to  the  conquest 
of  Canada,  send  you  re-enforcments  in  the  spring,  we 
must  raise  the  siege  of  Quebec  and  leave  the  country  to 
you.  In  the  opposite  contingency  we  recapture  Quebec 
and  keep  the  colony.  Now,  my  dear  Archie,  I  \/ant  to 
know  what  you  will  do  in  the  one  case  or  the  other." 

**  In  either  case,"  said  Lochiel,  "  as  long  as  the  war 
lasts  I  can  not  honorably  resign  my  commission.  But 
when  peace  comes,  I  propose  to  sell  the  poor  remnant 
of  my  Highland  estate  and  come  and  establish  myself 
on  this  side  of  the  water.  My  deepest  affections  are 
here.  I  love  Canada,  I  love  the  simple  and  upright 
manners  of  your  good  habitants ;  and  after  a  quiet  but 
busy  life,  I  would  rest  my  head  beneath  the  same  sod 
with  you,  my  brother." 

"  My  position  is  very  different  from  yours,"  answered 
Jules.  **  You  are  the  master  of  your  actions  ;  I  am  the 
slave  of  circumstance.  If  we  lose  Canada,  it  is  probable 
that  most  of  the  Canadian  nobility  will  move  to  France, 
where  they  will  find  protection  and  friends.  If  my 
family  is  of  this  number  I  can  not  leave  the  army.  In 
the  contrary  case  I  shall  return  after  some  years  of  serv- 
ice, to  live  and  die  with  my  own  people  ;  and,  like  you, 
to  sleep  at  last  in  the  land  I  love  so  well.  Everything 
leads  me  to  hope,  my  brother,  that  after  a  storm-tossed 
youth  we  shall  come  to  see  happier  days." 

The  two  friends  parted  after  a  long  and  loving  talk, 
the  last  they  were  to  have  while  the  colony  remained 
New  France.  When  the  reader  meets  them  again  after 
some  years,  the  country  will  have  changed  both  name 
and  masters. 


i  i 


Govern- 
conquest 
pring,  we 
ountry  to 
2  Quebec 
I  \/ant  to 
>ther." 
s  the  war 
ion.  But 
r  remnant 
sh  myself 
:tions  are 
d  upright 

quiet  but 
same  sod 

answered 
I  am  the 
probable 
o  France, 
If  my 
irmy.  In 
rs  of  serv- 
like  you, 
verything 
rm-tossed 

>ving  talk, 
remained 
Lgain  after 
oth  name 


CHAPTER   XV. 

THE   SHIPWRECK   OF    THE   AUGUSTE. 

The  predictions  of  the  witch  of  the  manor  were  ac- 
complished. After  the  surrender  of  Quebec,  the  rich 
D'Habervilles  had  been  but  too  glad  to  accept  the  hos- 
pitality of  M.  d'Egmont's  cabin,  whose  remoteness  had 
saved  it  from  the  flames.  **  The  good  gentleman  "  and 
Uncle  Raoul,  with  the  faithful  Andr6,  had  gone  at  once 
to  work  and  raised  the  narrow  attic,  so  as  to  leave  the 
ground  floor  to  the  use  of  the  ladies.  To  cheer  the 
latter,  the  men  aff^ected  a  gayety  which  they  were  far 
from  feeling;  and  their  songs  were  often  heard,  mingled 
with  the  rapid  strokes  of  the  axe,  the  grating  of  the  saw, 
the  sharp  whistling  of  the  plane.  By  dint  of  toil  and 
perseverance,  they  succeeded  in  sheltering  themselves 
tolerably  from  the  severity  of  the  season ;  and  had  it  not 
been  for  the  anxiety  which  they  suffered  in  regard  to 
Captain  d'Haberville  and  Jules,  the  winter  would  have 
passed  pleasantly  enough  in  their  solitude. 

Their  most  difficult  problem  was  that  of  provisions, 
for  a  veritable  famine  held  sway  in  all  the  country-side. 
The  little  grain  which  the  habitants  had  harvested  was 
for  the  most  part  eaten  boiled,  in  default  of  mill  to  grind 
it.  The  sole  remaining  resource  lay  in  fishing  and  hunt- 
ing, but  M.  d'Egmont  and  his  servant  were  rather  old  to 
indulge  in  such  exercises  during  the  severe  weather. 
Uncle  Raoul,  lame  as   he  was,  took  charge  of  the  com- 


214 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


5 


missariat.  He  set  snares  to  catch  rabbits  and  partridges, 
and  his  fair  niece  helped  him.  Blanche  made  herself  a 
sort  of  hunting  costume  ;  and  simply  ravishing  she  looked 
in  her  half-savage  garb,  her  petticoat  of  blue  cloth  fall- 
ing half-way  below  the  knee,  her  scarlet  gaiters,  her 
deer-hide  moccasins  worked  with  beads  and  porcupine 
quills  in  vivid  colors.  Lovely,  indeed,  she  looked  as  she 
returned  to  the  house  on  her  little  snow-shoes,  her  face 
delicately  flushed,  her  hands  laden  with  her  spoils. 
During  the  famine  the  habitants  frequented  Trois  Sau- 
mons  Lake  in  great  numbers ;  they  had  beaten  a  hard 
road  over  the  snow,  which  enabled  Uncle  Raoul  to  visit 
the  lake  on  a  sledge  drawn  by  a  huge  dog.  He  always 
returned  with  an  ample  provision  of  trout  and  partridge. 
On  such  fare  they  got  through  the  long  winter.  In  the 
spring  a  veritable  manna  of  wild  pigeons  came  to  the 
salvation  of  the  colony  ;  they  were  so  innumerable  that 
they  could  be  knocked  down  with  a  stick. 

When  Captain  d'Haberville  returned  to  his  seigtieurie 
he  was  utterly  ruined,  having  saved  nothing  but  the 
family  plate.  He  did  not  care  to  come  down  on  his 
impoverished  tenants  for  their  arrearages  of  rent,  but 
rather  hastened  to  their  aid  by  rebuilding  his  mill  on  the 
Trois  Saumons  River.  In  this  mill  he  lived  several  years 
with  his  family,  till  able  to  build  a  new  manor  house. 

A  poor  lodging,  truly — three  narrow  chambers  in  a 
mill — for  a  family  once  so  wealthy  as  the  D'Habervilles! 
But  they  bore  their  misfortunes  cheerfully.  Only  Cap- 
tain d'Haberville,  toiling  with  tireless  energy,  seemed 
unable  to  reconcile  himself  to  his  losses.  His  grief 
gnawed  at  his  heart,  and  for  six  years  there  was  never 
a  smile  upon  his  lips.  It  was  not  till  the  manor  was  re- 
built and  the  household  restored  to  a  certain  degree  of 
comfort  and  prosperity  that  he  regained  his  native 
cheerfulness. 


THE  SHIPWRECK  OF  THE  AUGUSTS. 


21$ 


irtridges, 
herself  a 
le  looked 
loth  fall- 
iters,  her 
orcupine 
2d  as  she 
her  face 
r  spoils, 
rois  Sau- 
n  a  hard 
■1  to  visit 
e  always 
artridge. 
In  the 
e  to  the 
ible  that 

pgneurie 
but  the 

I  on  his 
ent,  but 

II  on  the 
:al  years 
ouse. 
ers  in  a 
ervilles ! 
ily  Cap- 
seemed 

[is  grief 

is  never 

was  re- 

gree  of 

native 


It  was  the  22d  of  February,  1762,  and  about  nine 
o'clock  in  the  evening,  when  an  ill-clad  stranger  entered 
the  mill  and  begged  shelter  for  the  night.  As  was  his 
custom  when  not  occupied  in  work,  Captain  d'Haber- 
ville  was  seated  in  a  corner  of  the  room,  his  head  hang- 
ing dejectedly  on  his  breast.  The  voice  of  the  stranger 
made  him  tremble  without  knowing  why.  It  was  some 
moments  before  he  could  answer,  but  at  last  he  said  : 

"  You  are  welcome,  my  friend  ;  you  shall  have  supper 
and  breakfast  here,  and  my  miller  will  give  you  a  bed 
for  the  night." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  the  stranger,  "  but  I  am  very 
tired  ;  give  me  a  glass  of  brandy." 

M.  d'Haberville  was  not  disposed  to  bestow  upon  a 
vagabond  stranger  even  one  drink  of  the  meager  supply 
of  brandy,  which  he  was  keeping  in  case  of  absolute  ne- 
cessity.    He  answered  that  he  had  none. 

"  If  thou  didst  know  me,  D'Haberville,"  replied  the 
stranger,  "  thou  wouldst  certainly  not  refuse  me  a  drink 
of  brandy,  though  it  were  the  last  drop  in  thy  house." 

The  first  feeling  of  the  captain  was  one  of  wrath  en 
hearing  himself  addressed  so  familiarly  by  one  who  ap- 
peared to  be  a  tramp ;  but  there  was  something  in  the 
hoarse  voice  of  the  unknown  which  made  him  tremble 
anew,  and  he  checked  himself.  At  this  moment  Blanche 
appeared  with  a  light,  and  every  one  was  stupefied  at 
the  appearance  of  this  man,  a  veritable  living  specter, 
who  stood  with  folded  arms  and  gazed  upon  them  sadly. 
So  deathlike  was  his  pallor  that  one  would  have  thought 
a  vampire  had  sucked  all  the  blood  from  his  veins. 
His  bones  threatened  to  pierce  his  skin,  which  was  yel- 
low like  that  of  a  mummy;  and  his  dim  and  sunken 
eyes  were  vacant — without  speculation,  like  those  of  the 
ghost  of  Banquo.  Everybody  was  astonished  that  such 
a  corpse  could  walk. 


2l6 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


;.!i!ii 


'     After  one  moment  of  hesitation,  Captain  d'Haberville 
threw  himself  into  the  stranger's  arms,  crying : 

"  You  here,  my  dear  Saint- Luc  !  The  sight  of  my  bit- 
terest enemy  could  not  cause  me  such  dismay.  Speak  ; 
and  tell  us  that  all  our  relations  and  friends  who  took 
passage  in  the  Auguste  are  buried  in  the  sea,  and  that 
you,  the  one  survivor,  are  come  to  bring  us  the  sad  tid- 
ings ! " 

The  silence  of  M.  Saint-Luc  de  Lacorne,  the  grief 
stamped  upon  his  countenance,  confirmed  Captain 
d'Haberville's  worst  fears. 

"  Accursed  be  the  tyrant,"  cried  the  captain,  "  who 
in  the  bitterness  of  his  hate  against  the  French  sent  so 
many  good  men  to  their  death  in  an  old  ship  utterly  un- 
seaworthy  ! " 

"  Instead  of  cursing  your  enemies,"  said  M.  de  Saint- 
Luc  in  a  hoarse  voice,  "  thank  God  that  you  and  your 
family  got  leave  to  remain  in  the  colony  two  years  longer. 
And  now,  a  glass  of  brandy  and  a  little  soup.  I  have 
been  so  nearly  starved  that  my  stomach  refuses  solid 
food.  Let  me  also  take  a  little  rest  before  telling  you  a 
story  which  will  call  forth  many  tears." 

In  the  neighborhood  of  half  an  hour,  for  this  man  of 
iron  needed  but  little  rest  to  recover  his  strength,  M.  de 
Saint- Luc  began  as  follows  : 

"  In  spite  of  the  English  governor's  impatience  to 
banish  from  New  France  those  who  had  so  valiantly  de- 
fended her,  the  authorities  had  placed  at  our  disposal 
only  two  ships,  which  were  found  utterly  insufficient  for 
the  great  number  of  French  and  Canadians  who  were 
waiting  to  sail.  I  pointed  this  out  to  General  Murray, 
and  proposed  to  buy  one  at  my  own  expense.  This  he 
would  not  hear,  but  two  days  later  he  placed  at  our  dis- 
posal the  ship  Auguste,  hastily  commissioned  for  the 
purpose.     By  a  payment  of  five  hundred  Spanish  pias- 


m 


THE   SHIPWRECK  OF  THE  AUGUSTE. 


217 


[aberville 

)f  my  bit- 
Speak  ; 
jviio  took 
and  that 
e  sad  tid- 

the  grief 
Captain 

tin,  "  who 
h  sent  so 
tterly  un- 

de  Saint- 
and  your 
rs  longer. 
I  have 
ises  solid 
ng  you  a 

is  man  of 
th,  M.  de 

tience  to 
antly  de- 
disposal 
icient  for 
vho  were 
Murray, 
This  he 
t  our  dis- 
for  the 
lish  pias- 


ters, I  obtained  from  the  English  captain  the  exclusive 
use  of  his  cabin  for  myself  and  family. 

"  I  then  pointed  out  to  General  Murray  the  danger 
to  which  we  should  be  exposed  at  this  stormy  season 
with  a  captain  not  familiar  with  the  St.  Lawrence.  I 
offered  to  hire  Jind  pay  for  a  pilot  myself.  His  answer 
was,  that  we  would  have  the  same  chance  as  the  rest ; 
but  he  ended  by  sending  a  little  vessel  to  pilot  us  clear 
of  the  river. 

"  We  were  all  in  deep  dejection,  a  prey  to  the  gloomi- 
est forebodings,  when  we  raised  anchor  on  the  15th  of 
October  last.  Many  of  us,  forced  to  sell  our  proper- 
ties at  a  ruinous  sacrifice,  had  but  a  future  of  poverty 
to  look  forward  to  in  the  mother  country.  Speeding  at 
first  before  a  favorable  v.'ind,  with  swelling  hearts  we 
saw  the  cherished  and  familiar  scenes  fade  out  behind 
us  and  fall  below  the  horizon. 

"  I  will  not  detail  the  many  perils  we  underwent  be- 
fore the  great  calamity  out  of  which  but  myself  and  six 
others  escaped  alive.  On  the  i6th  we  came  within  an 
ace  of  shipwreck  on  the  Isle  aux  Coudres,  after  the  loss 
of  our  main  anchor. 

"  On  the  4th  of  November  we  were  struck  by  a  ter- 
rific gale,  which  lasted  two  days,  and  which  we  weathered 
with  difficulty.  On  the  7th  a  fire  broke  out  three  times 
in  the  cook's  galley,  and  was  extinguished  only  after 
a  desperate  struggle.  I  shall  not  endeavor  to  paint  the 
scenes  on  shipboard  while  it  seemed  likely  we  should 
be  burned  in  the  open  sea.- 

"  On  the  nth  we  escaped  as  by  a  miracle  from  being 
dashed  to  pieces  on  a  rock  off  Isle  Royale. 

"  From  the  13th  to  the  15th  we  were  driven  blindly 
before  a  hurricane,  not  knowing  where  we  were.  As 
many  of  us  as  could  do  so  were  obliged  to  fill  the 
places  of  the  crew,  who  were  so  exhausted  with  their 


2l8 


THE   CANADIANS  OF  OLD, 


incessant  labors  that  they  had  taken  refuge  in  their 
hammocks,  from  which  neither  bribes,  threats,  nor  blows 
could  drive  them.  Our  foremast  was  gone,  our  tattered 
sails  could  no  longer  be  either  hoisted  or  furled,  and,  as 
a  last  resort,  the  mate  proposed  that  we  should  run  the 
ship  ashore.  It  was  a  desperate  expedient.  The  fatal 
moment  arrived.  The  captain  and  mate  looked  at  me 
despairingly,  clasping  their  hands.  I  understood  but 
too  well  the  silent  speech  of  these  men  inuiv,d  to  peril. 
We  made  for  land  to  starboard,  whers  we  saw  the  mouth 
of  a  little  river  which  might  perhaps  prove  navigable.  I 
explained  our  situation  to  all  the  passengers,  concealing 
nothing.  Then  what  entreaties  and  what  vows  to  the 
Almighty !  But,  alas  !  in  vain  the  vows,  and  of  no  avail 
the  prayers ! 

"  Who  can  paint  the  madness  of  the  waves  ?  Our 
masts  seemed  to  touch  the  sky  and  then  vanish  in  the 
deep.  A  frightful  shock  announced  that  the  ship  had 
grounded.  vVe  cut  away  the  masts  and  cordage  to 
lighten  her,  but  the  waves  rolled  her  on  her  side.  We 
were  stranded  about  five  hundred  feet  from  shore,  in  a 
little  sandy  bay  at  the  mouth  of  the  river  in  which  we 
had  hoped  to  find  refuge.  As  the  ship  was  now  leaking 
at  every  joint,  the  passengers  rushed  upon  deck  ;  and 
some  even,  thinking  themselves  within  reach  of  safety, 
threw  themselves  into  the  sea  and  perished  miserably. 

"At  this  moment  Madame  de  Tillac  appeared  on 
deck,  holding  her  little  one  in  her  arms,  her  long  hair 
and  her  garments  streaming  about  her  in  confusion.  She 
was  the  picture  of  hopeless  anguish.  She  fell  on  her 
knees.  Then,  perceiving  me,  she  cried  in  a  piercing 
voice  :  *  My  dear  friend,  must  we  die  like  this  ? ' 

"  I  was  running  to  her  aid,  when  a  giant  wave  thun- 
dered down  upon  the  deck  and  swept  her  into  the  sea." 

"  My  poor  friend,"  sobbed  Madame  d'Haberville ; 


m- 


in  their 
or  blows 

tattered 
[,  and,  as 
,  run  the 
L'he  fatal 
id  at  me 
;ood  but 

to  peril, 
le  mouth 
gable.  I 
mcealing 
s  to  the 

no  avail 

is  ?  Our 
sh  in  the 
ship  had 
rdage  to 
de.  We 
lore,  in  a 
vhich  we 
V  leaking 
ck  ;  and 
)f  safety, 
jrably. 
sared  on 
ong  hair 
ion.  She 
I  OP  her 
piercing 

,ve  thun- 
the  sea." 
jerville ; 


THE  SIIIPWRFXK  OF  THE  AUGUSTE. 


2ig 


"companion  of  my  childhood,  my  foster-sister,  nour- 
ished at  the  same  breast  with  me  ?  They  tried  to  per- 
il; suade  me  that  it  was  merely  my  overwrought  imagina- 
tion that  made  me  see  you  in  my  sleep,  that  17th  of 
November!  I  saw  you  weeping  on  the  deck  of  the 
Auguste,  your  baby  in  your  arms ;  and  I  saw  you  swept 
into  the  waves.  I  was  not  deceived,  my  sister !  You 
came  to  bid  me  farewell  before  vanishing  to  heaven 
with  the  angel  that  nestled  in  your  bosom !  " 

After  a  pause,  M.  de  Lacorne  went  on : 
||:,  "Crew  and  passengers  were  lashed  to  the  shrouds, 

to  escape  the  waves  which  dashed  ceaselessly  over  the 
doomed  ship,  every  moment  carrying  away  new  victims. 
The  ship  carried  but  two  small  boats,  one  of  which  was 
already  crushed  into  splinters.  The  remaining  one,  a 
mere  cockle-shell,  was  launched,  and  a  servant  named 
]&tienne  threw  himself  into  it,  followed  by  the  captain 
and  two  or  three  others.  I  did  not  perceive  this  till 
one  of  my  children,  whom  I  hela  m  my  arms,  while  the 
other  was  tied  to  my  belt,  cried  eagerly  :  '  Save  us  now, 
father ;  the  boat  is  going  away  I '  I  seized  the  rope 
fiercely.  At  this  moment  a  terrific  wave  struck  us,  and 
hurled  me  headlong  into  the  boat.  The  same  wave 
which  saved  my  life  swept  away  my  children." 

At  this  point  the  narrator's  voice  failed  him,  and  his 
listeners  sobbed  aloud.  Regaining  his  self-control,  he 
continued  : 

"  Although  under  the  lee  of  the  ship,  the  boat  was 
almost  swamped  by  another  wave ;  and  the  next  hurled 
us  landward.  In  what  seemed  but  a  few  seconds,  in 
that  awful  and  stupefying  tumult,  we  found  ourselves 
dashed  upon  the  sand.  Above  the  uproar  we  heard  the 
heart-rending  shrieks  of  those  who  remained  upon  the 
ship. 

"  or  the  seven  men  thus  miraculously  thrown  upon 


220 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


:1  ; 
;  1 


llilil 


:i' 


m 

■s*lt'. 


the  unknown  shore,  I  was  the  only  one  capable  of 
action.  I  had  just  seen  my  brother  and  my  little  ones 
snatched  away,  and  I  strove  to  keep  down  my  agony 
of  soul  by  striving  for  the  safety  of  my  fellow-sufferers. 
I  succeeded,  after  a  time,  in  bringing  the  captain  back 
to  consciousness.  The  others  were  numbed  with  cold, 
for  an  icy  rain  was  falling  in  torrents.  Not  wishing  to 
lose  sight  of  the  ship,  I  handed  them  my  flint  and  steel 
and  powder-horn,  telling  them  to  light  a  fire  at  the  edge 
of  the  wood.  In  this  they  failed  signally  ;  scarcely  had 
they  strength  enough  to  come  and  tell  me  of  their  fail- 
ure, so  weak  were  they  and  numbed  with  cold.  After 
many  attempts,  I  succeeded  in  making  a  fire  just  in  time 
to  save  their  lives.  Then  I  returned  to  the  beach, 
hoping  to  save  some  poor  creatures  who  might  be 
washed  ashore.  I  remained  there  from  three  in  the 
afternoon  till  six  o'clock  in  the  evening,  when  the  ship 
went  to  pieces.  Never,  never  shall  I  forget  the  sight  of 
the  dead  bodies  stretched  upon  the  sand,  more  than  a 
hundred  in  number,  many  of  them  with  legs  or  arms 
broken,  their  faces  battered  out  of  all  recognition. 

"  Half  stupefied  by  the  calamity,  we  passed  a  sleep- 
less and  silent  night,  and  on  the  morning  of  the  i6th 
we  betook  ourselves  again  to  the  fatal  shore.  We 
passed  the  day  in  bestowing  upon  the  dead  such  sad 
last  rites  as  were  possible  to  such  poor  wretches  as  we. 

"  On  the  morrow  we  left  this  desert  and  inhospitable 
coast,  and  directed  our  course  into  the  interior.  The 
winter  had  set  in  in  all  its  severity.  We  marched 
through  snow  up  to  our  knees.  Sometimes  we  came  to 
deep  and  rapid  rivers,  which  forced  us  to  make  long 
ditours.  My  companions  were  so  enfeebled  by  fatigue 
and  famine  that  sometimes  I  had  to  retrace  my  steps 
more  than  once  to  get  their  bundles,  which  they  had 
been  compelled  to  drop.     Their  courage  was  utter!y 


ipable  of 
little  ones 
my  agony 
-sufferers, 
tain  back 
i^ith  cold, 
ishing  to 
and  steel 

the  edge 
rcely  had 
heir  fail- 
d.  After 
5t  in  time 
e  beach, 
night  be 
le  in  the 

the  ship 
3  sight  of 
•e  than  a 

or  arms 
Dn. 
[  a  sleep- 

the  1 6th 
re.  We 
such  sad 
5  as  we. 
ospitable 
or.  The 
marched 

came  to 
ake  long 
y  fatigue 
my  steps 
hey  had 
s  utter!y 


THE  SHIPWRECK  OF   THE  AUGUSTS,        221 

broken ;  and  sometimes  I  had  to  stop  and  make  them 
rude  moccasins  to  cover  their  bleeding  feet. 

"  Thus  we  dragged  ourselves  on,  or  rather  I  dragged 
them  in  tow,  for  neither  courage  nor  strength  once 
failed  me  till  at  length,  on  the  4th  of  December,  we 
met  two  Indians.  Imagine  if  you  can  the  delirious  joy 
of  my  companions,  who  for  the  last  few  days  had  been 
looking  forward  to  death  itself  as  a  welcome  release 
from  their  sufferings  !  These  Indians  did  not  recognize 
me  at  first,  so  much  was  I  changed  by  what  I  had  gone 
through,  and  by  the  long  beard  which  had  covered  my 
face.  Once  I  did  their  tribe  a  great  service  ;  and  you 
know  that  these  natives  never  forget  a  benefit.  They 
welcomed  me  with  delight.  We  were  saved.  Then  I 
learned  that  we  were  on  the  island  of  Cape  Breton, 
about  thirty  leagues  from  Louisbourg. 

"  I  made  haste  to  leave  my  companions  at  the  first 
Acadian  settlement,  where  I  knew  they  would  be  nursed 
back  to  health.  I  was  eager  to  return  to  Quebec,  that 
I  might  be  the  first  to  inform  General  Murray  of  our 
shipwreck.  I  need  not  detail  to  you  the  incidents  of 
the  journey.  Suffice  to  say  that  with  the  greatest  peril 
I  crossed  from  Cape  Breton  to  the  main-land  in  a  birch 
canoe,  through  the  sweeping  ice  cakes ;  and  that  I  have 
covered  now  about  five  hundred  leagues  on  my  snow- 
shoes.  I  have  had  to  change  my  guides  very  frequent- 
ly, for  after  eight  days'  marching  with  me,  Indian  and 
Acadian  alike  find  themselves  utterly  used  up." 

After  this  story,  the  family  passed  the  greater  part  of 
the  night  in  bewailing  the  fate  of  their  friends  and  kins- 
folk, the  victims  of  a  barbarous  decree. 

M.  de  Saint-Luc  allowed  himself  but  a  few  hours 
rest,  so  eager  was  he  to  present  himself  before  Mur- 
ray at  Quebec  as  a  living  protest  against  the  vindic- 
tive cruelty  which  had  sent  to  their  death  so  many  brave 


I 


222 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


soldiers,  so  many  unoffending  women  and  little  ones. 
It  had  been  thought  that  Murray's  unreasoning  bitter- 
ness was  due  to  the  fact  that  he  could  not  forget  his 
defeat  of  the  previous  year. 

"  Do  you  know,  D'Haberville,"  said  M.  de  Saint- 
Luc  at  breakfast,  "  who  was  the  friend  so  strong 
with  Murray  as  to  obtain  you  your  two  years'  respite  ? 
Do  you  know  to  whom  you  owe  to-day  the  life  which 
you  would  probably  have  lost  in  our  shipwreck  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Captain  D'Haberville.  "  I  have  no  idea 
what  friend  we  can  have  so  powerful.  But  whoever  he 
is,  never  shall  I  forget  the  debt  of  gratitude  I  owe  him." 

"  Well,  my  friend,  it  is  the  young  Scotchman  Archi- 
bald de  Lochiel  to  whom  you  owe  this  eternal  grati- 
tude." 

*'  I  have  commanded,"  almost  shouted  Captain  d'Hab- 
erville,  "  that  the  name  of  this  viper,  whom  I  warmed  in 
my  bosom,  should  never  be  pronounced  in  my  pres- 
ence."    And  the  captain's  great  black  eyes  shot  fire. 

"  I  dare  flatter  myself,"  said  M.  de  Saint-Luc,  "  that 
this  command  hardly  extends  to  me.  I  am  your  friend 
from  childhood,  your  brother  in  arms,  and  I  know  all 
the  obligations  which  bind  us  mutually.  I  know  that 
you  will  not  say  to  me,  as  you  said  to  your  sister,  the 
superior,  when  she  sought  to  plead  the  cause  of  this  in- 
nocent young  man :  *  Enough,  my  sister.  You  are  a 
holy  woman,  bound  to  forgive  your  enemies,  even  those 
who  have  been  guilty  of  the  blackest  ingratitude  against 
you.  But  as  for  me,  you  know  that  I  never  forgive  an 
injury.  That  is  my  nature.  If  it  be  a  sin,  God  has  not 
given  me  strength  to  conquer  it.  Enough,  my  sister ; 
and  never  again  pronounce  his  name  in  my  presence,  or 
all  intercourse  between  us  shall  cease.'  No,  my  dear 
friend,"  continued  Saint-Luc,  "  you  will  not  make  me 
this  answer ;  and  you  will  hear  what  I  have  to  say." 


THE  SHIPWRECK  OF   THE  AUGUSTE. 


223 


tie  ones. 
ig  bitter- 
brget  his 

ie  Saint- 

0  strong 
respite  ? 

fe  which 

• 

^  no  idea 
oever  he 
we  him." 
n  Archi- 
val grati- 

n  d'Hab- 
armed  in 
my  pres- 
t  fire, 
ic,  "  that 
Lir  friend 
enow  all 
low  that 
ster,  the 
'  this  in- 
u  are  a 
en  those 

1  against 
rgive  an 

has  not 
y  sister ; 
ence,  or 
ny  dear 
nake  me 
lay." 


i 


M.  d'Haberville  knew  too  well  the  requirements  of 
hospitality  to  impose  silence  upon  his  friend  under  his 
own  roof.  His  thick  eyebrows  gathered  in  a  heavy 
frown,  he  half  closed  his  eyes  as  if  to  veil  his  thoughts, 
and  resigned  himself  to  listen  with  the  air  of  a  criminal 
to  whose  satisfaction  the  judge  is  endeavoring  to  prove 
that  he  deserves  his  sentence. 

M.  de  Saint-Luc  detailed  Archie's  conduct  from  the 
beginning,  and  his  struggle  with  his  implacable  foe 
Montgomery.  He  spoke  energetically  of  the  soldier's 
obligation  to  obey  the  commands  of  his  superior,  how- 
ever unjust.  He  drew  a  touching  picture  of  the  young 
man's  despair,  and  added  : 

**As  soon  as  Lochiel  learned  that  you  and  yours 
were  ordered  to  embark  at  once  for  Europe,  he  re- 
quested an  audience  with  the  general,  which  was  granted. 

**  *  Captain  de  Lochiel,*  said  Murray,  handing  him  the 
brevet  of  his  new  rank,  *  I  was  going  to  look  for  you. 
Having  witnessed  your  exploits  on  the  glorious  field  of 
1759,  I  hastened  to  ask  for  your  promotion;  and  I  may 
add  that  your  subsequent  conduct  has  proved  you 
worthy  of  the  favor  of  His  Majesty's  Government,  and 
of  my  utmost  efforts  on  your  behalf.' 

*I  am  most  glad,  sir,'  answered  Lochiel,  'that  your 
recommendation  has  obtained  me  a  reward  far  beyond 
anything  my  poor  services  could  entitle  me  to  expect ; 
and  I  beg  you  will  accept  my  grateful  thanks  for  the 
favor,  which  emboldens  me  to  ask  yet  one  more.  Gen- 
eral, it  is  a  great,  an  inestimable  favor  which  I  would 
ask  of  you.* 

"  *  Speak,  captain,'  said  Murray,  *  for  I  would  do 
much  to  gratify  you.' 

"  *  If  it  were  myself  that  was  concerned,'  said  Archie, 
*  I  should  have  nothing  further  to  desire.  It  is  for 
Others  I  would  speak.    The  D'Haberville  family,  ruined, 


II;     . 

'|l     i 


224 


r//£  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


like  so  many  others,  by  our  conquest,  has  been  ordered 
by  Your  Excellency  to  depart  at  once  for  France.  They 
have  found  it  impossible  to  sell,  even  at  the  greatest  sac- 
rifice, the  small  remnants  of  their  once  considerable  for- 
tune. Grant  them,  I  implore  you,  two  years  in  which  to 
set  their  affairs  in  order.  Your  Excellency  is  aware  how 
much  I  owe  to  this  family,  which  loaded  me  with  kind- 
ness during  my  ten  years*  sojourn  in  the  colony.  It 
was  I  who,  obeying  the  orders  of  my  superior  officer, 
completed  their  ruin  by  burning  their  manor  and  mill 
at  St.  Jean-Port-Joli.  For  the  love  of  Heaven,  general, 
grant  them  two  years,  and  you  will  lift  a  terrible  burden 
from  my  soul ! ' 

"  *  Captain  de  Lochiel, '  said  Murray  severely,  *  I  am 
surprised  to  hear  you  interceding  for  the  D'Habervilles, 
who  have  shown  themselves  our  most  implacable  ene- 


mies. 


It  is  but  just  to  them,  general,*  answered  Archie, 
*  to  recognize  that  they  have  fought  bravely  to  defend 
their  country,  even  as  we  have  done  to  conquer  it.  It 
is  with  some  confidence  I  address  myself  to  a  brave  sol- 
dier, on  behalf  of  truly  valiant  enemies.* 

**  Lochiel  had  touched  the  wrong  cord,  for  Murray  was 
brooding  over  his  defeat  of  the  preceding  year,  and,  fur- 
ther, he  was  hardly  susceptible  to  anything  like  chivalry 
of  sentiment.    He  answered  icily  : 

**  *  Impossible,  sir  !  I  can  not  recall  my  order.  The 
D'Habervilles  must  go.* 

"  *  In  that  case,  will  Your  Excellency  be  so  kind  as  to 
accept  my  resignation  ?  *  said  Archie. 

"  *  What,  sir  !  *  exclaimed  the  general,  paling  with 
anger. 

"  *  Will  Your  Excellency,'  repeated  Archie  coldly,  *be 
so  good  as  to  accept  my  resignation,  and  permit  me 
to  serve  as  a  common  soldier  ?    They  who  will  seek  to 


Iff "'? 


THE  SHIPWRECK  OF  THE  AUGUSTE, 


22$ 


I  ordered 
ce.  They 
latest  sac- 
Table  for- 
,  which  to 
ware  how 
vith  kind- 
)lony.  It 
or  officer, 

and  mill 
I,  general, 
le  burden 

;ly,  '  I  am 
ibervilles, 
able  ene- 

d  Archie, 
to  defend 
er  it.  It 
iiave  sol- 

urray  was 

and,  fur- 

j  chivalry 

er.    The 

cind  as  to 

ling  with 

Dldly,  *  be 
;rmit  me 

II  seek  to 


point  the  finger  at  me  as  the  monster  of  ingratitude, 
who,  after  being  loaded  with  benefits  by  a  family  to 
whom  he  came  a  stranger,  achieved  liic  final  ruin  of  that 
family  without  working  any  alleviation  of  their  lot — they 
who  would  hold  me  up  to  scorn  for  this  will  find  it 
harder  to  discover  me  when  buried  in  the  ranks  than 
when  I  am  at  the  head  of  men  who  have  no  such  stain 
upon  them.'  Once  more  he  offered  his  commission  to 
the  general. 

"  The  latter  became  first  red  and  then  pale,  turned 
upon  his  heel,  bit  his  lips,  passed  his  hand  across  his 
forehead,  muttered  something  like  a  *  G — d  d — n  ! '  be- 
tween his  teeth,  and  remained  for  a  moment  plunged  in 
thought.  Then  he  calmed  himself  suddenly,  put  out  his 
hand,  and  said : 

"  *  I  appreciate  your  sentiments.  Captain  de  Lochiel. 
Our  sovereign  must  not  be  deprived  of  the  services 
which  you  can  render  him  as  one  of  his  officers,  you 
who  are  ready  to  sacrifice  your  future  for  a  debt  of 
gratitude.     Your  friends  shall  remain.' 

" '  A  thousand  thanks  !  '  cried  Archie.  *  You  may 
count  on  my  devotion  henceforth,  though  I  be  required 
to  march  alone  to  the  cannon's  mouth  to  prove  it.  A 
mountain  of  remorse  lay  on  my  heart.  Now  I  feel  as 
light  as  one  of  our  mountain  roebucks !  '  " 

Of  all  the  passions  that  sway  men's  wills,  jealousy 
and  revenge  are  perhaps  the  hardest  to  control.  Cap- 
tain d'Haberville,  after  having  listened  with  a  frown, 
said  merely  : 

"I  perceive  that  the  services  of  M.  de  Lochiel  have 
met  with  due  appreciation.  As  for  me,  I  was  unaware 
that  I  was  so  indebted  to  him."  And  he  turned  the 
conversation  into  another  channel. 

M.  de  Saint-Luc  glanced  at  the  other  members 
of  the  family,  who  had  listened  with  eyes  cast  down, 
15 


^»^ 


226 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD, 


not  daring  to  discuss  the  subject.  Rising  from  the  table, 
he  added : 

"  This  respite,  D'Haberville,  is  a  most  fortunate 
thing ;  for  you  may  rest  assured  that  within  two  years 
you  will  find  yourself  free  to  go  or  come  as  you  will. 
The  English  governor  incurred  too  heavy  a  responsi- 
bility when  he  doomed  to  death  so  many  persons  of 
prominence — persons  allied  to  the  most  illustrious  fami- 
lies, not  only  on  the  Continent,  but  in  England  as  well. 
He  will  seek  to  conciliate  the  Canadians  in  order  to 
ward  off  the  consequences  of  this  dreadful  catastrophe. 
Now,  farewell,  my  friends  ;  and  remember  they  are  weak 
souls  who  let  themselves  be  beaten  down  by  misfortune. 
One  great  consolation  we  have  in  considering  that  we 
did  all  that  could  be  expected  of  the  bravest,  and  that, 
if  our  country  could  have  been  preserved,  our  arms  and 
our  courage  would  have  preserved  it." 

The  night  was  far  advanced  when  M.  de  Saint-Luc 
reached  Quebec  and  presented  himself  at  the  Chdteau 
St.-Louis,  where  he  was  at  first  refused  admission.  But 
he  was  so  determined,  declaring  that  his  tidings  were  of 
the  most  immediate  importance,  that  at  length  an  aide 
consented  to  awaken  the  governor,  who  had  been  some 
hours  in  bed.  Murray  at  first  failed  to  recognize  M.  de 
Saint-Luc,  and  asked  him  angrily  how  he  dared  disturb 
him  at  such  an  hour,  or  what  tidings  he  could  bring  of 
such  pressing  importance. 

"  An  affair  which  you  will  assuredly  consider  worthy 
of  some  attention,  sir,  for  I  am  Captain  de  Saint-Luc, 
and  my  presence  here  will  tell  you  the  rest." 

General  Murray  turned  as  pale  as  death.  Presently 
he  called  for  refreshments,  and,  treating  Saint-Luc  with 
the  most  profound  consideration,  he  inquired  of  him  the 
fullest  particulars  of  the  wreck.  He  was  no  longer  the 
same  man  who  had  carelessly  consigned  so  many  brave 


THE  SHIPWRECK  OF  THE  AUGUSTE. 


22/ 


he  table, 

brtunate 
vo  years 
you  will, 
responsi- 
rsons  of 
)us  fami- 
l  as  well, 
order  to 
astrophe. 
are  weak 
sfortune. 
that  we 
md  that, 
arms  and 

>aint-Luc 

Chateau 

on.     But 

s  were  of 

an  aide 
een  some 
ize  M.  de 
d  disturb 

bring  of 


if 


officers  to  their  doom  just  because  the  sight  of  their  uni- 
forms displeased  him. 

What  M.  de  Saint-Luc  had  foreseen  presently  came 
to  pass.  Thenceforward  Governor  Murray,  conscience- 
stricken  by  the  loss  of  the  Auguste,  became  very  lenient 
toward  the  Canadians,  and  those  who  wished  to  remain 
in  the  colony  were  given  liberty  to  do  so.  M.  de  Saint- 
Luc,  in  particular,  whose  possible  revelations  he  may 
have  dreaded,  became  the  special  object  of  his  favor, 
and  found  nothing  to  complain  of  in  the  governors  atti- 
tude. He  set  his  tremendous  energies  to  the  work  of 
repairing  his  fortunes,  and  his  efforts  were  crowned  with 
well-merited  success. 


;r  worthy 
aint-Luc, 


Presently 
Luc  with 
f  him  the 
onger  the 
iny  brave 


% 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


LOCHIEL    AND    BLANCHE. 


After  seven  long  years  of  severe  privation,  content 
and  even  happiness  came  back  to  the  D'Habervilles. 
It  is  true  that  the  great  manor  house  had  been  replaced 
by  a  somewhat  humble  dwelling;  but  it  v-  a  palace 
compared  to  the  mill  they  had  just  left.  The  D'Haber- 
villes had,  moreover,  suffered  less  than  many  others  in 
the  same  position.  Loved  and  respected  by  their  ten- 
ants, they  had  suffered  none  of  those  humiliations  which 
the  vulgar  often  inflict  upon  their  betters  in  distress. 
The  D'Habervilles  had  never  forgotten  that  it  is  the 
privilege  of  the  upper  classes  to  treat  their  inferiors  with 
respect.  They  were  beseiged  with  offers  of  service. 
When  it  was  decided  to  rebuild  the  manor,  the  whole 
parish  volunteered  its  assistance  to  help  along  thr  work. 
Every  man  labored  with  as  much  zeal  as  if  it  w< 'e  his 
own  house  he  was  building.  With  the  delicate  tact  of 
the  Frenchman,  they  never  entered,  except  as  invited 
guests,  the  poor  chambers  which  the  family  had  set 
apart  in  the  mill.  If  they  had  been  affectionate  toward 
their  seigneur  in  his  prosperity,  when  the  iron  hand  of 
adversity  was  laid  upon  him  they  became  his  devoted 
disciples. 

Only  they  who  have  known  great  reverses,  who  have 
suffered  long  and  cruelly,  can  appreciate  the  blissful 
content  of  them  who  again  see  better  days.     Hitherto 


1% 


LOCHIEL  AND  BLANCHE. 


229 


1,  content 
ibervilles. 
I  replaced 
a  palace 
D'Haber- 
others  in 
their  ten- 
ons which 

distress. 

it  is  the 
triors  with 
f  service, 
the  whole 
tht  work. 
t  wc'-e  his 
ite  tact  of 
as  invited 
had  set 
ite  toward 
m  hand  of 
s  devoted 

who  have 
tie  blissful 
Hitherto 


all  had  respected  Captain  d'Haberville's  grief,  and  in 
his  presence  had  scarcely  spoken  above  their  breath ; 
but  now  the  natural  gayety  of  the  French  heart  reas- 
serted itself,  and  all  was  changed  as  by  enchantment. 

The  captain  laughed  and  joked  as  he  used  to  before 
the  war,  the  ladies  sang  as  they  busied  themselves  about 
the  house,  and  again  the  sonorous  voice  of  Uncle  Raoul 
was  heard  on  fine  evenings  arous^ing  the  echoes  of  the 
cape.  The  faithful  Jos^  was  everywhere  at  once,  and 
tales  of  the  experiences  of  his  "  late  father,  now  dead  " 
flowed  incessantly  from  his  lips. 

One  morning  toward  the  end  of  August,  that  same 
year.  Captain  d'Haberville  was  returning  from  the  river 
Port-Joli,  his  gun  on  one  shoulder  and  a  well-filled 
game-bag  slung  over  the  other,  when  he  saw  a  small 
boat  put  off  from  a  ship  which  was  anchored  a  little 
way  out.  The  boat  made  directly  for  the  D'Habervilles* 
landing.  The  captain  sat  on  a  rock  to  wait  for  it,  imag- 
ining that  it  contained  some  sailors  in  quest  of  miik  and 
fresh  victuals.  As  they  landed  he  was  hastening  for- 
ward to  meet  them,  when  he  saw  with  surprise  that  one 
of  them,  who  was  dressed  as  a  gentleman,  was  handing 
a  packet  to  one  of  the  sailors  and  directing  him  to  take 
it  to  the  manor  house.  At  the  sight  of  Captain  d'Haber- 
ville this  gentleman  seemed  to  change  his  mind  suddenly, 
for  he  stepped  forward  and  handed  him  the  packet  with 
these  words  : 

"  I  have  hardly  dared  hand  you  this  packet  myself. 
Captain  d'Haberville,  although  it  contains  news  at 
which  you  will  rejoice." 

"  Why,  sir,"  replied  the  captain,  searching  his  mem- 
ory for  the  name  of  this  person,  whose  face  seemed  half 
familiar,  "why  should  you  have  hesitated  to  hand  me 
the  packet  yourself  if  chance  had  not  thrown  me  in  your 
way?"  .      .  <: , 


230 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


"Because,  sir,"  said  the  ot'ier,  hesitating,  "I  might 
have  feared  that  it  would  be  disagreeable  to  you  to  re- 
ceive it  at  my  hands.  I  know  that  Captain  d'Haberville 
never  forgets  either  a  benefit  or  an  injury." 

Captain  d'Haberville  stared  at  the  stranger;  then, 
frowning  heavily,  he  shut  his  eyes  and  was  silent  for 
some  moments.  The  stranger,  watching  him  intently, 
could  see  that  a  violent  struggle  was  raging  in  his  breast. 
Presently  Captain  d'Haberville  recovered  his  self-pos- 
session and  said,  with  scrupulous  politeness  : 

"  Let  us  leave  to  each  man's  own  conscience  the  re- 
membrance of  past  wrongs.  You  are  here,  Captain  de 
Lochiel,  and  as  the  bearer  of  letters  from  my  son  you 
are  entitled  to  every  welcome  on  my  part.  The  family 
will  be  glad  to  see  you.  You  will  receive  at  my  house 
— a  cordial  hospitality."  He  was  going  to  say  bitterly 
a  princely  hospitality,  but  the  reproach  died  upon  his 
lips.     The  lion  was  as  yet  but  half  appeased. 

Archie  instinctively  put  out  his  hand  to  grasp  that  of 
his  old  friend  ;  but  Captain  d'Haberville  responded 
with  a  visible  effort,  and  his  hand  lay  passive  in  the 
young  man's  clasp. 

A  sigh  burst  from  Archie's  lips,  and  for  a  time  he 
seemed  uncertain  what  to  do.  At  length  he  said  sor- 
rowfully : 

"Captain  d'Haberville  can  refuse  to  forgive  him 
whom  once  he  loved  and  overwhelmed  with  benefits,  but 
he  has  too  noble  a  soul  to  wantonly  inflict  a  punishmen"" 
too  great  to  be  endured.  To  see  again  the  places  which 
will  recall  such  poignant  memories  will  be  trial  enough 
in  itself,  without  meeting  there  the  cold  welcome  which 
hospitality  extends  to  the  stranger.  Farewell,  Captain 
d'Haberville  ;  farewell  forever  to  him  whom  I  once 
called  my  father,  if  he  will  no  longer  regard  me  as  a 
son.     I  call  Heaven  to  witness  that  every  hour  has  been 


\ 


ii 


LOCHIEL  AND  BLANCHE. 


231 


[  might 
u  to  re- 
iberville 

r;  then, 
lent  for 
ntently, 
s  breast. 
5elf-pos- 

j  the  re- 
ptain  de 
son  you 
3  family 
ly  house 
bitterly 
ipon  his 

)  that  of 
ponded 
in  the 

time  he 
,aid  sor- 

ive  him 
sfits,  but 
ishmen^ 
;s  which 

enough 
e  which 
Captain 

I  once 
■ne  as  a 

as  been 


embittered  with  remorse  since  the  fatal  day  when  my 
duty  as  a  soldier  under  orders  forced  me  to  enact  a  bar- 
barism at  which  my  very  soul  sickened.  I  swear  to  you 
that  a  great  weight  has  lain  ceaselessly  upon  my  heart, 
through  the  hours  of  excitement  on  the  battle-field,  of  gay- 
ety  at  ball  and  festival,  not  less  than  through  the  silence 
of  the  long  and  weary  nights.  Farewell  forever,  for  I 
perceive  that  you  have  refused  to  hear  from  the  lips  of 
the  good  superior  the  story  of  my  pain  and  my  despair. 
Farewell  for  the  last  time,  and,  since  all  intercourse  must 
cease  between  us,  tell  me,  oh,  tell  me,  I  implore  you,  that 
some  measure  of  peace  and  happiness  has  been  restored 
to  your  family !  Oh,  tell  me  that  you  are  not  continually 
miserable  !  Nothin  ;  remains  for  me  but  to  pray  God 
on  my  knees  that  he  will  shed  his  best  blessings  on  a 
family  which  I  so  deeply  love  !  To  offer  to  repair  with 
my  own  fortune  the  losses  which  I  caused  would  be  an 
insult  to  a  D'Haberville." 

Though  tli.  d'Haberville  had  refused  to  listen  to  his 
sister,  iie  had  none  the  less  been  impressed  by  the  re- 
cital of  M.  de  Saint- Luc,  and  by  Archie's  devotion  in 
offering  to  sacrifice  his  fortune  and  his  future  to  a  senti- 
ment of  gratitude.  Hence  the  degree  of  welcome  with 
which  he  had  received  him.  Otherwise,  it  is  probable 
he  would  have  turned  his  back  upon  him. 

The  suggestion  of  pecuniary  compensation  made  M. 
d'Haberville  start  as  if  he  had  been  touched  with  a  red- 
hot  iron ;  but  this  passing  emotion  was  forgotten  in  the 
conflict  of  his  feelings.  He  clasped  his  breast  with  both 
hands,  as  if  he  would  tear  out  the  bitterness  which,  in 
spite  of  him,  clung  to  his  heart.  Making  Lochiel  a  sign 
to  remain  where  he  was,  he  strode  rapidly  down  the 
shore  ;  then  he  came  back  slowly  and  thoughtfully,  and 
said : 

'*  I  have  done  my  utmost,  Archie,  to  banish  the  last 


232 


THE   CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


1 


of  my  bitterness ;  but  you  know  me,  and  you  know  it 
will  be  a  work  of  time  to  blot  it  completely  from  my  re- 
membrance. All  that  I  can  say  is  that  my  heart  forgives 
you.  My  sister  the  superior  told  me  all  •  I  listened  to 
her,  after  hearing  of  your  good  offices  in  interceding 
with  the  governor  on  my  behalf,  of  which  I  learned 
through  my  friend  de  Saint-Luc.  I  concluded  that  he 
who  was  ready  to  sacrifice  rank  and  fortune  for  his 
friends  could  only  have  been  acting  by  compulsion  in 
those  circumstances  to  which  I  now  allude  lor  the  last 
time.  If  you  should  notice  occasionally  any  coldness  in 
my  attitude  toward  yourself,  please  pay  no  attention  to 
it.     Let  us  leave  it  all  to  time." 

He  pressed  Lochiel's  hand  cordially.  The  lion  was 
appeased. 

"  As  it  is  probable,"  said  M.  d'Haberville,  **  that  the 
calm  is  going  to  continue,  send  back  your  sailors  after 
they  have  had  something  to  eat  ;  and  if  by  chance  a  fa- 
vorable wind  should  arise,  my  good  nag  Lubine  will 
carry  you  to  Quebec  in  six  hours — that  is,  if  your  busi- 
ness prevents  your  staying  with  us  so  long  as  we  would 
wish.     This  will  be  convenient  for  you,  will  it  not  ?  " 

With  these  words,  he  passed  his  arm  under  that  of 
Archie  and  they  walked  together  toward  the  house. 

"  Now,  Archie,"  said  the  captain,  "  how  does  it  hap- 
pen that  you  bring  letters  and  good  news  from  my  son  ?  " 

"  I  left  Jules  in  Paris  seven  weeks  ago,"  answered 
Archie,  "  after  having  stayed  a  month  with  him  at  the 
house  of  his  uncle  M.  de  Germain,  who  did  not  wish 
me  to  be  separated  from  my  friend  during  my  stay  in 
France  ;  but  it  will  be  pleasanter  for  you  to  learn  all 
from  his  own  hand,  so  permit  me  to  say  no  more." 

If  it  saddened  Lochiel  to  see  what  one  would  have 
called  before  the  conquest  the  D'Haberville  village  re- 
placed by  three  or  four  poor  cottages,  nevertheless,  he 


LOCHIEL  AND  BLANCHE, 


233 


know  it 
m  my  re- 
:  forgives 
tened  to 
cerceding 
'.  learned 

that  he 
;  for  his 
ulsiou  in 
r  the  last 
Idness  in 
ention  to 

lion  was 

'  that  the 
ors  after 
nee  a  fa- 
mine will 
)ur  busi- 
e  would 
lOt  ?  " 
r  that  of 
ise. 

s  it  hap- 
ly son  ?  " 
nswered 
n  at  the 
lot  wish 
stay  in 
[earn  all 

lid  have 
llage  re- 
iless,  he 


I 


had  an  agreeable  surprise  in  the  prosperous  appearance 
of  the  manor.  These  buildings,  new  and  freshly  white- 
washed, this  garden  gay  with  flowers,  these  two  orchards 
laden  with  fine  fruit,  the  harvesters  returning  from  the 
meadows  with  fragrant  loads  of  hay — all  this  tended  to 
dissipate  the  impression  of  gloom  that  had  at  first  almost 
overwhelmed  him.  With  the  exception  of  a  sofa  and  a 
dozen  arm-chairs  of  mahogany,  and  a  few  other  small 
articles  of  furniture  snatched  from  the  flames,  every- 
thing was  of  extreme  simplicity  within  the  new  dwelling. 
All  the  furniture  was  in  plain  wood.  The  walls  were 
guiltless  of  pictures,  as  the  floors  of  carpets.  The  family 
portraits,  which  had  been  the  pride  of  the  D'Habervilles, 
no  longer  occupied  their  places  in  the  dining-room  ;  the 
only  ornaments  of  the  new  rooms  were  some  fir-boughs 
standing  in  the  corners  and  a  generous  supply  of  flow- 
ers in  baskets  made  by  the  natives.  This  absence  of 
costly  adornment,  however,  was  not  without  its  charm. 
One  breathed  deeply  in  that  atmosphere,  wholesome 
with  the  fragrance  of  fir-boughs,  flowers,  and  new  wood. 
There  was  everywhere  a  flavor  of  freshness,  which  made  it 
hard  to  regret  the  absence  of  more  costly  appointments. 
All  the  family,  having  seen  M.  d'Haberville  in  the 
distance  accompanied  by  a  stranger,  had  gathered  in  the 
drawing-room  to  receive  him.  Not  having  seen  Archie 
for  ten  years,  nobody  but  Blanche  recognized  him.  The 
girl  grew  pale  at  the  sight  of  the  friend  whom  she  had 
never  thought  to  see  again  ;  but  recovering  herself 
promptly,  as  women  will  to  conceal  their  strongest 
feelings,  like  the  other  two  ladies  she  made  the  deep 
courtesy  which  she  would  have  bestowed  upon  a 
stranger.  As  for  Uncle  Raoul,  he  bowed  with  chilly 
politeness.  He  had  little  love  for  the  English,  and  ever 
since  the  conquest  he  had  been  cursing  them  with  an 
eloquence  not  edifying  to  pious  ears. 


234 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD, 


"  May  I  be  roasted  by  an  Ircquois,"  exclaimed  the 
captain,  addressing  Archie,  "  if  a  iingle  one  of  us  knew 
you.  Come,  look  at  this  gentleman ;  ten  years  ought  not 
to  have  blotted  him  from  your  memory.  As  for  me,  I 
knew  him  at  once.  Speak,  Blanche,  you  being  the 
youngest  should  have  better  eyes  than  the  rest." 

*'  I  think,"  said  Blanche  in  a  low  voice,  "  that  it  is 
M.  de  Lochiel." 

"  Yes,"  said  M.  d'Haberville,  "  it  is  Archie,  who  has 
seen  Jules  very  lately  in  Paris.  He  brings  us  letters 
from  him,  full  of  good  news.  What  are  you  doing, 
Archie,  that  you  do  not  embrace  your  old  friends  ? " 

The  family,  ignorant  of  the  change  in  the  captain's 
feelings,  were  only  awaiting  his  consent  to  give  Archie 
a  welcome  whose  warmth  brought  tears  into  his  eyes. 

The  last  letter  from  Jules  contained  the  following 
passage : 

"  I  have  been  taking  the  waters  of  Bareges  for  my 
wounds,  and  though  I  am  still  weak,  I  am  getting  well 
rapidly.  The  doctors  say  that  I  must  have  rest,  and 
that  it  will  be  long  before  I  am  able  to  take  the  field 
again.  I  have  obtained  an  unlimited  furlough.  Our 
relative  the  minister  and  all  my  friends  counsel  me  to 
leave  the  army  and  return  to  Canada,  the  new  country 
of  all  my  family.  They  advise  me  to  establish  myself 
there,  after  taking  the  oath  of  allegiance  to  the  English 
crown ;  but  I  will  do  nothing  without  consulting  you. 
My  brother  Archie,  who  has  influential  friends  in  Eng- 
land, has  sent  me  a  letter  of  recommendation  from  one 
high  in  authority  to  your  governor,  Sir  Guy  Carleton, 
who,  they  say,  shows  great  consideration  for  the  Cana- 
dian nobility.  If  on  your  advice  I  decide  to  remain  in 
Canada,  I  shall  hope  to  be  of  some  use  to  my  poor 
fellow-countrymen.  God  willing,  I  shall  have  the  pleas- 
ure of  embracing  you  all  again  toward  the  end  of  Sep- 


^ 


LOCHIEL  AND  BLANCHE. 


235 


imed  the 
us  knew 
3ught  not 
"or  me,  I 
)eing  the 

that  it  is 

who  has 
us  letters 
u  doing, 
ds?" 
captain's 
e  Archie 
5  eyes, 
following 

s  for  my 
ting  well 
rest,  and 
the  field 
jh.  Our 
i\  me  to 

country 
myself 

English 
mg  you. 

in  Eng- 
prom  one 

arleton, 
le  Cana- 
jmain  in 
ny  poor 
le  pleas- 

of  Sep- 


tember  next.  Oh,  what  happiness,  after  so  long  a  sepa- 
ration ! " 

In  a  postscript  Jules  added  : 

"  I  was  forgetting  to  tell  you  that  I  have  been  pre- 
sented to  the  King,  who  received  me  most  kindly.  He 
even  praised  me  for  what  he  was  pleased  to  call  my 
noble  conduct,  and  made  me  a  Knight  of  the  Grand 
Cross  of  the  Most  Honorable  Order  of  St.  Louis.  I 
know  not  to  what  pleasantry  I  owe  this  favor,  which 
every  Frenchman  who  carried  a  sword  has  as  much 
deserved  as  I.  I  could  name  ten  officers  in  my  own 
division  who  should  have  been  decorated  in  my  place. 
It  is  true  that  I  have  had  the  precious  advantage  of 
getting  carved  up  like  a  fool  in  every  battle.  Truly  it 
is  a  pity  that  there  was  not  an  order  for  fools ;  then  I 
should  have  fairly  won  the  distinction  which  his  Most 
Christian  Majesty  has  just  bestowed  upon  me.  I  hope, 
however,  that  this  act  will  not  shut  the  gates  of  paradise 
against  him,  and  that  St.  Peter  will  find  s  me  other 
little  peccadilloes  to  object  to.  Otherwise,  I  should  be 
greatly  concerned." 

Lochiel  could  scarcely  keep  from  laughing  at  the 
words  "  Most  Christian  Majesty."  He  could  see  the 
mocking  smile  with  which  his  friend  would  write  the 
phrase. 

"  Always  the  same,"  exclaimed  M.  d'Haberville. 

**  And  thinking  only  of  others  !  "  exclaimed  the  rest, 
with  one  voice. 

"  I  will  wager  my  head  to  a  shilling,"  said  Archie, 
"that  he  would  rather  have  seen  the  honor  bestowed 
upon  one  of  his  friends." 

"What  a  son  !  "  exclaimed  the  mother.  ,,; 

"  What  a  brother  !  "  added  Blanche. 

"You  may  well  say  what  a  brother,"  exclaimed 
Archie  fervently. 


II 


236 


THE   CANADIANS  OF  OLD, 


"  And  what  a  nephew  have  I  trained  up ! "  cried 
Uncle  Raoul,  making  passes  in  the  air  with  his  cane,  as 
if  it  were  a  saber  and  he  on  horseback.  "  There  is  a 
prince  who  can  distinguish  merit,  and  who  knows  how 
to  reward  it.  His  Majesty  of  France  shows  great  dis- 
cernment. He  knows  that  with  a  hundred  officers  like 
Jules  he  could  resume  the  offensive,  overrun  Europe 
with  triumphant  armies,  overleap  the  Detroit  like  an- 
other William,  crush  proud  Albion,  and  reconquer  the 
colonies  !  "  Again  Uncle  Raoul  carved  the  air  in  every 
direction  with  his  cane,  to  the  imminent  peril  of  the 
eyes,  noses,  and  chins  of  the  rest  of  the  company.  Then 
the  chevalier  looked  about  him  proudly,  and,  with  the 
aid  of  his  cane,  he  dragged  himself  to  an  arm-chair,  to 
repose  after  the  laurels  he  had  won  for  the  King  of 
France  by  the  help  of  a  hundred  officers  like  his 
nephew. 

The  letters  from  Jules,  and  Archie's  coming,  made 
that  day  one  of  feverish  delight  at  D'Haberville  Manor  ; 
and  Archie  was  pursued  with  incessant  questions  about 
Jules,  about  their  friends  in  France,  about  the  Faubourg 
St.  Germain,  about  the  court,  and  about  his  own  advent- 
ures. Archie  wished  then  to  see  the  servants.  In  the 
kitchen,  getting  dinner,  he  found  the  mulatto  woman  Lis- 
ette,  who  threw  herself  upon  his  neck  as  she  used  to  do 
when  he  came  home  for  his  holidays  with  Jules.  Her 
voice  was  choked  v/ith  sobs  of  delight. 

This  woman,  whom  Captain  d'Haberville  had  bought 
when  she  was  only  four  years  old,  had  some  failings, 
but  she  was  deeply  attached  to  the  family.  She  stood 
in  awe  of  no  one  but  the  master.  Her  mistress  she  re- 
garded as  a  sort  of  new  comer,  whom  she  obeyed  or  not 
according  to  her  whim. 

Blanche  and  her  brother  were  the  only  ones  who 
could  do  what  they  liked  with  her.     Though  Jules  often 


|i 


LOCHIEL  AND  BLANCHE. 


237 


? ! "  cried 
s  cane,  as 
'here  is  a 
lows  how 
great  dis- 
Eicers  like 
a  Europe 
t  like  an- 
nquer  the 
r  in  every 
ril  of  the 
ly.  Then 
,  with  the 
i-chair,  to 
King  of 
like   his 

ing,  made 
e  Manor ; 
ons  about 
Faubourg 
n  advent- 
1.  In  the 
)man  Lis- 
sed  to  do 
es.     Her 

id  bought 
failings, 
he  stood 
»s  she  re- 
ed or  not 

)nes  who 
lies  often 


tormented  her  sorely,  she  was  always  ready  to  laugh  at 
his  tricks  and  shield  him  from  their  consequences. 

Tried  beyond  all  patience,  M.  d'Haberville  had  lonj 
ago  given  her  her  freedom  ;  but,  to  use  her  own  words, 
"  she  laughed  at  his  emancipation  like  that,"  snapping 
her  fingers,  "  for  she  had  as  good  a  right  as  he  and  his 
to  remain  in  the  house  where  she  had  been  brought  up." 
If  her  master,  too  utterly  exasperated,  would  dismiss  her 
by  one  door,  she  would  promptly  re-enter  by  the  other. 

This  irrepressible  woman  was  as  much  affected  by 
the  misfortunes  of  her  master  as  if  she  had  been  a 
daughter  of  the  family ;  and,  strange  to  say,  during  all 
the  years  when  the  captain  was  immersed  in  bitterness 
and  gloom,  she  was  a  model  of  obedience  and  submis- 
sion, and  did  the  work  of  at  least  two  servants.  When 
she  was  alone  with  Blanche  she  would  sometimes  throw 
herself  sobbing  on  her  neck,  and  the  brave  girl  would 
forget  her  own  griefs  in  comforting  those  of  the  slave. 
It  is  necessary  to  add  that  when  prosperity  returned  to 
the  family  Lisette  became  as  willful  as  before. 

Leaving  the  kitchen,  Lochiel  ran  to  meet  Jose,  who 
came  singing  up  from  the  garden,  laden  with  fruit  and 
vegetables. 

"  Excuse  me  if  I  give  you  my  left  hand,"  said  Jos^  ; 
"  I  left  the  other  behind  me  on  the  Plains  of  Abraham. 
I  bear  no  grudge,  however,  against  the  '  short  petticoat  * 
(begging  your  pardon)  who  relieved  me  of  it.  The 
thing  was  done  so  neatly  right  at  the  joint  that  the  sur- 
geon had  nothing  left  to  do  but  bandage  up  the  stump. 
We  came  off  about  quits,  nevertheless,  the  *  short  petti- 
coat *  and  I,  for  I  ran  my  bayonet  through  his  body.  It's 
just  as  well  after  all,  however,  for  what  use  would  my 
right  hand  be  to  me  when  there  is  no  more  fighting? 
No  more  war  now  that  the  Englishman  is  master  of  the 
land,"  added  Jos^,  sighing. 


238 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


"  It  seems,  my  dear  Josd,"  answered  Lochiel, 
laughing,  "  that  you  know  pretty  well  how  to  do  with- 
out your  right  hand  as  long  as  the  left  remains  to 
you." 

"  Very  true,"  said  Jos^.  "  I  can  manage  when  I'm 
driven  to  it,  as  in  the  scrimmage  with  the  *  short  petti- 
coat ' ;  but  I  confess  that  it  grieves  me  to  be  thus 
crippled.  Both  hands  would  have  been  none  too  many 
to  serve  my  master  with.  The  times  have  been  hard, 
indeed;  but,  thank  God,  the  worst  is  over."  And  tears 
welled  up  in  the  faithful  Josh's  eyes. 

Lochiel  then  betook  himself  to  the  harvesters,  who 
were  busy  raking  the  hay  and  loading  the  carts.  They 
were  all  old  acquaintances,  who  greeted  him  warmly ; 
for  all  the  family,  the  captain  excepted,  had  been  at 
pains  to  exonerate  him.  The  dinner,  serv  ""  with  the 
greatest  simplicity,  was  nevertheless  lavish  'ts  abun- 
dance, thanks  to  the  game  with  which  shore  and  forest 
were  swarming  at  this  season.  The  silver  had  been  re- 
duced to  the  limits  of  strict  necessity ;  besides  the 
spoons,  forks,  and  drinking-cups,  there  remained  but  a 
single  jug  of  ancient  pattern,  graven  with  the  D'Haber- 
ville  arms,  to  attest  the  former  opulence  of  the  family. 
The  dessert  consisted  of  the  fruits  of  the  season,  brought 
in  on  maple  leaves,  in  birch-bark  cassots  and  baskets  in- 
geniously woven  by  the  Indians.  A  little  glass  of  black- 
currant ratafia  before  dinner  to  sharpen  the  appetite, 
spruce  beer  made  out  of  the  branches  of  the  tree,  and 
Spanish  wune  which  they  drank  much  tempered  with 
water,  these  were  the  only  liquors  that  the  hospitality  of 
Seigneur  d'Haberville  could  set  before  his  guest.  This 
did  not  prevent  the  meal  from  being  pervaded  with 
kindly  gayety ;  the  family  seemed  to  be  entering  upon  a 
new  life.  But  for  his  dread  of  wounding  Archie,  Cap- 
tain d'Haberville  would  not  have  failed  to  joke  upon 


LOCHJEL  AND  BLANCHE. 


239 


Lochiel, 
do  with- 
nains  to 

^hen  I'm 
)rt  petti- 
be  thus 
00  many 
en  hard, 
Lnd  tears 

ters,  who 
3.     They 
warmly ; 
been  at 
with  the 
ts  abun- 
id  forest 
been  re- 
ides   the 
d  but  a 
)'Haber- 
e  family, 
brought 
skets  in- 
of  black- 
appetite, 
ree,  and 
ed  with 
tality  of 
t.     This 
ed  with 
upon  a 
lie,  Cap- 
ke  upon 


1^ 


¥ 


the  absence  of  champagne,  which  was  replaced  by  the 
sparkling  spruce  beer. 

"  Now  that  we  are  en  familky'  said  the  captain,  smil- 
ing at  Archie,  "  let  us  talk  of  the  future  of  my  son.  As 
for  me,  old  and  worn  out  before  my  time  with  the 
fatigues  of  war,  I  have  a  good  excuse  for  not  serving  the 
new  government.  It  would  not  be  for  me,  moreover,  at 
my  age,  to  draw  the  sword  against  France,  whom  I  have 
served  for  more  than  thirty  years.  Rather  death,  a 
hundred  times  !  " 

**  And,  like  Hector  the  Trojan,"  interrupted  Uncle 
Raoul,  "  we  can  all  say  : 

Si  Pergama  dextra 
Defendi possent^  etiam  hdc  dejensa  /uissent.'* 

"  Never  mind  Hector  the  Trojan,"  exclaimed  M. 
d'Haberville  who,  not  being  as  learned  as  his  broth- 
er, had  small  taste  for  his  quotations.  *'  Never  mind 
Hector  the  Trojan,  who  was  not  greatly  concerned 
with  our  family  affairs.  Let  us  return  to  Jules.  His 
health  compels  him  to  withdraw  from  the  service,  per- 
haps for  a  long  time,  or  even  permanently.  His  dear- 
est interests  are  here  where  he  was  born.  Canada  is 
his  true  fatherland.  He  can  not  have  the  same  affec- 
tion for  the  land  of  his  ancestors.  His  position,  more- 
over, is  very  different  from  mine.  What  would  be 
cowardice  for  me,  standing  on  the  edge  of  the  tomb,  is 
but  an  act  of  duty  for  him  who  is  but  on  the  threshold 
of  life.  Splendidly  has  he  paid  his  debt  to  the  country 
of  his  fathers.  He  retires  honorably  from  a  service 
which  the  doctors  order  him  to  leave.  Now  let  him 
consecrate  his  energy  and  his  abilities  to  the  service  of 
his  fellow  Canadians.  The  new  governor  is  already  well 
disposed  toward  us.  He  welcomes  those  of  my  coun- 
trymen who  have  intercourse  with  him.  He  has  many 
times  expressed  his  sympathy  for  the  brave  officers 


240 


THE   CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


whora  he  had  met  face  to  face  on  the  battle-field,  and 
whom  fate,  not  their  courage,  had  betrayed.  In  the 
gatherings  at  Chateau  St.  Louis  he  shows  the  same  re- 
gard for  Canadians  as  for  his  own  countrymen,  as  much 
for  those  of  us  who  have  lost  all  as  for  those  more  for- 
tunate who  can  maintain  a  dignity  suitable  to  their 
rank.  Under  his  administration  and  supported  by  the 
strong  recommendations  which  our  friend  Lochiel  has 
procured  for  him,  Jules  has  every  reason  to  hope  for  a 
high  position  in  the  colony.  Let  him  take  the  oath  of 
allegiance  to  the  English  crown  ;  and  my  last  words 
when  I  bid  him  a  final  farewell  shall  be  :  *  Serve  your 
English  sovereign  with  the  same  zeal,  devotion,  and 
loyalty  with  which  I  have  served  the  French  King,  and 
receive  my  blessing.'  " 

Every  one  was  struck  by  this  sudden  change  of  sen- 
timent in  the  head  of  the  family.  They  forgot  that  Ad- 
versity is  a  hard  master,  who  bends  the  most  stubborn 
heart  beneath  his  grasp  of  steel.  Captain  d'Haber- 
ville,  too  proud  and  too  loyal  to  acknowledge  openly 
that  Louis  XV  had  wronged  the  subjects  who  had 
served  him  with  a  heroism  so  devoted,  nevertheless,  felt 
keenly  the  ingratitude  of  the  French  court.  Although 
stung  to  the  quick  by  such  treatment,  he  was  ready  to 
shed  the  last  drop  of  his  blood  for  this  voluptuous  mon- 
arch given  over  to  the  whims  of  his  mistresses.  But 
there  his  devotion  ceased.  He  would  have  refused  for 
himself  the  favors  of  the  new  government ;  but  he  was 
too  just  to  sacrifice  his  son's  future  to  a  sentiment  with 
so  slight  a  basis. 

"  Let  each  one  now  express  his  opinion  freely,"  said 
the  captain,  smiling,  "and  let  the  majority  decide." 
The  ladies  answered  this  appeal  by  throwing  themselves 
into  his  arms.  Uncle  Raoul  seized  his  brother's  hand, 
shook  it  vigorously,  and  exclaimed  : 


-field,  and 
I.  In  the 
i  same  re- 
1,  as  much 
more  for- 
e  to  their 
ted  by  the 
ochiel  has 
lope  for  a 
he  oath  of 
last  words 
Serve  your 
otion,  and 
King,  and 

ige  of  sen- 
)t  that  Ad- 
it stubborn 

d'Haber- 
Ige  openly 

who  had 
heless,  felt 

Although 
s  ready  to 
uous  mon- 
sses.  But 
efused  for 
>ut  he  was 
ment  with 

2ely,"  said 

decide." 

hemselves 

er's  hand, 


LOCHIEL  AND  BLANCHE, 


241 


"  Nestor  of  old  could  not  have  spoken  more  wisely." 

"  Nor  could  we  have  been  more  delighted,"  said 
Archie,  "  if  we  had  had  the  advantage  of  listening  to  the 
very  words  of  that  most  venerable  Grecian." 

As  the  tide  was  full  and  the  river  beautifully  calm, 
Archie  proposed  to  Blanche  a  walk  along  the  lovely 
shore,  which  stretches— varied  with  sandy  coves — from 
the  manor  to  the  little  Port-Joli  River. 

"  Everything  I  see,"  said  Archie,  as  they  moved  along 
the  river's  edge,  the  level  rays  of  the  sunset  making  a 
path  of  red  gold  from  their  feet  to  the  far-off  mountains, 
*'  everything  I  see  is  rich  with  sweet  memories.  Here, 
when  you  were  a  child,  I  taught  you  to  play  with  the 
shells  which  I  picked  up  along  this  shore.  In  this  little 
bay  I  taught  my  brother  Jules  to  swim.  There  are  the 
same  strawberry  beds  and  raspberry  thickets  whence  we 
plucked  the  fruit  you  were  so  fond  of.  Here,  seated, 
book  in  hand,  on  this  little  rock,  you  used  to  wait  the 
return  of  Jules  and  me  from  hunting,  to  congratulate  us 
on  our  success  or  mock  at  our  empty  game-bags.  Not  a 
tree,  a  bush,  a  shrub,  but  looks  to  me  like  an  old  and 
dear  acquaintance.  Oh,  ha^py  childhood,  happy  youth  ! 
Ever  rejoicing  in  the  present,  forgetful  of  the  past,  care- 
less of  the  future,  life  rolls  along  as  gently  as  the  current 
of  this  pretty  stream  which  we  are  now  crossing.  It  was 
then  that  we  were  wise,  Jules  and  I,  when  our  highest 
ambition  was  to  pass  our  days  together  here,  happy  in 
our  work  and  our  hunting." 

"Just  such  a  life  of  monotony  and  peace,"  inter- 
rupted Blanche,  "is  that  to  which  our  sex  is  doomed. 
God  in  giving  man  strength  and  courage  set  him  apart 
for  the  loftier  destinies.  What  must  be  the  enthusiasm 
of  a  man  in  the  midst  of  the  battle !  What  sight  more 
sublime  than  that  of  the  soldier  facing  death  a  hundred 
times  in  the  tumult  for  all  he  holds  most  dear  !  What 
16 


242 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


1  !  I 


must  be  the  fierce  exultation  of  the  warrior  when  the 
bugles  sound  for  victory  !  " 

This  noble  girl  knew  of  no  glory  but  that  of  arms. 
Her  father,  almost  incessantly  in  the  field,  came  back  to 
the  bosom  of  his  family  only  to  rehearse  the  exploits  of 
his  comrades-in-arms  ;  and  Blanche,  while  yet  a  child, 
had  become  steeped  with  martial  ardor. 

"  There  are  triumphs  all  too  dearly  bought,"  answered 
Archie,  "  when  one  considers  the  disasters  that  have  fol- 
lowed in  their  train,  when  one  remembers  the  tears  of 
the  widow  and  the  orphan,  robbed  of  their  dearest ! 
But  here  we  are  at  the  Port-Joli,  well  named,  with 
its  sunny  banks  gay  with  wild-rose  thickets,  its  groves 
of  fir  and  spruce,  and  its  coverts  of  red  willow.  What 
memories  cling  about  this  lovely  stream  !  I  see  again 
your  gentle  mother  and  your  good  aunt  seated  here  on 
the  grass  on  a  fair  evening  in  August,  while  we  are  pad- 
dling up-stream,  in  our  little  green  canoe,  to  Babin's 
Islet,  keeping  time  with  our  paddles  as  we  sing  in  chorus 
the  refrain  of  your  pretty  song  : 

We're  afloat,  we're  afloat,  on  the  water  so  blue, 
We  are  bound  for  our  isle  of  delight. 

I  hear  again  the  voice  of  your  mother  calling  repeat- 
edly :  *  Go  and  get  Blanche  at  once,  you  incorrigibles  ; 
it  is  supper-time,  and  you  know  your  father  expects 
punctuality  at  meals.*  And  Jules  would  answer,  pad- 
dling with  all  his  might,  *  Do  not  fear  my  father's  anger. 
I  will  take  the  whole  responsibility  on  my  own  shoul- 
ders. I  will  make  him  laugh  by  telling  him  that,  like 
His  Majesty  Louis  XIV,  he  had  expected  to  wait.  You 
know  I  am  a  spoiled  child  in  the  holidays.* " 

"  Dear  fellow  ! "  said  Blanche,  "  he  was  sad  enough 
that  day  when  you  and  I  found  him  hiding  in  this  fir 
grove,  where  he  had  concealed  himself  to  escape  the 
first  heat  of  father's  indignation. 


LOCHIEL  AND  BLANCHE. 


243 


vhen  the 

of  arms. 

e  back  to 

sploits  of 

a  child, 

answered 
have  fol- 
e  tears  of 
dearest ! 
led,  with 
ts  groves 
V.  What 
see  again 
1  here  on 
:  are  pad- 
3  Babin's 
in  chorus 

»  repeat- 
rrigibles ; 
expects 
ver,  pad- 
r's  anger, 
m  shoul- 
that,  like 
lit.     You 

d  enough 
.n  this  fir 
icape  the 


"  And  he  had  not  done  anything  so  very  dreadful 
after  all,"  said  Archie,  laughing. 

"Let  us  enumerate  his  crimes,"  replied  Blanche, 
counting  on  her  fingers.  "  First,  he  had  disobeyed  father's 
orders  by  harnessing  to  the  carriage  an  unruly  three- 
year-old  filly  which  was  scarcely  to  be  managed  even  in 
a  sleigh.  Secondly,  after  a  hard  tussle  with  the  rash 
young  driver,  the  filly  had  taken  the  bit  in  her  teeth,  and 
as  the  first  proof  of  her  freedom  had  crushed  the  un- 
happy cow  belonging  to  our  neighbor  Widow  Mau- 
rice." 

"  A  most  happy  accident  for  said  widow,"  interposed 
Archie,  "  for  your  father  replaced  the  old  animal  with 
two  of  the  finest  heifers  in  his  pastures.  I  remember 
the  anxiety  of  the  poor  woman  when  she  learned  that 
some  officious  spectator  had  informed  your  father  of  the 
accident.  How  does  it  happen  that  the  people  whom 
Jules  tormented  most  assiduously  are  just  the  ones  who 
were  most  devoted  to  him  ?  What  is  the  spell  by  which 
he  compels  everybody  to  love  him?  Widow  Maurice 
used  to  have  hardly  a  moment's  peace  while  we  were 
home  for  the  holidays ;  yet  she  was  always  in  tears  when 
she  came  to  bid  Jules  good-by." 

"  The  reason  is  not  far  to  seek,"  said  Blanche.  "  It 
is  that  all  know  his  kind  heart.  You  know,  moreover, 
by  experience,  Archie,  that  those  whom  he  loves  best 
are  just  the  ones  that  he  teases  most  unremittingly.  But 
let  us  continue  our  enumeration  of  his  misdemeanors  on 
that  unlucky  day !  Thirdly,  after  killing  the  cow,  the 
ugly  brute  ran  against  a  fence,  broke  one  of  the  wheels, 
and  hurled  the  driver  fifteen  feet  into  the  meadow  be- 
yond ;  but  Jules,  who  always  falls  on  his  feet,  like  a  cat, 
was  in  no  way  the  worse  for  this  adventure.  Fourthly, 
and  lastly,  after  smashing  the  carriage  to  splinters  on 
the  rocks  of  the  Trois  Saumons  River,  the  mare  ended 


244 


THE   CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


n:.| 


by  breaking  her  own  legs  on  the  shore,  over  in  the  parish 
of  L'Islet." 

"  Yes,"  added  Archie,  **  and  I  remember  how  elo- 
quently you  pleaded  for  the  culprit,  who,  in  despair  at 
having  so  deeply  offended  so  good  a  father,  was  in  dan- 
ger of  proceeding  to  rash  extremities  against  h\mself. 
'  Dear  papa,*  you  said,  *  should  you  not  rather  thank 
heaven  for  having  preserved  Jules's  life  ?  What  matters 
the  loss  of  a  cow,  a  horse,  a  carriage  ?  You  might  have 
seen  his  bleeding  body  brought  home  to  you  !  *  *  Come, 
let  us  talk  no  more  about  it,'  was  your  father's  reply. 

*  Go  and  look  for  your  rascal  of  a  brother,  for  I  doubt 
not  you  and  Archie  know  where  he  has  taken  refuge 
after  his  nice  performances  ! '  I  see  yet,"  continued 
Archie,  "  the  half- penitent,  half-comical  air  of  Jules  when 
he  knew  the  storm  had  blown  over.  *  What,  my  father,' 
he  ended  by  saying,  after  listening  to  some  energetic  re- 
monstrances, *  would  you  have  preferred  to  see  me 
dragged  to  my  death,  like  another  Hippolytus,  by  the 
horse  which  your  hands  had  nourished  to  be  the  mur- 
derer of  your  son  ?  Would  you  have  chosen  to  see  my 
ensanguined  locks  dangling  on  the  brambles  ?  '  To  which 
the  captain  answered  :  *  Come,  let's  to  supper,  since 
there  seems  to  be  a  God  for  such  madcaps  as  you.* 

*  Now,  that's  more  like  the  way  to  talk  to  a  fellow,'  was 
Jules's  response.  I  never  could  quite  understand,"  con- 
tinued Archie,  "  why  your  father,  who  is  ordinarily  so 
unforgiving,  used  to  forgive  and  forget  so  easily  any 
offense  of  Jules." 

**  Father  knows,"  said  Blanche,  "  that  Jules  loves  him 
devotedly,  and  would  endure  anything  to  spare  him 
pain.  For  all  his  headlong  thoughtlessness,  Jules  could 
never  offend  my  father  deeply." 

"Now  that  we  have  called  up  so  many  pleasant 
memories,"  said  Archie,  "  let  us  sit  down  on  this  hillock 


LOCHIEL  AND  BLANCHE. 


245 


;he  parish 

how  elo- 
lespair  at 
IS  in  dan- 
t  h\mself. 
ler  thank 
It  matters 
light  have 
'    *  Come, 
;r's  reply, 
r  I  doubt 
en  refuge 
continued 
ules  when 
[ly  father,' 
srgetic  re- 
D   see  me 
IS,  by  the 
the  mur- 
to  see  my 
To  which 
per,  since 
J  as  you.* 
llow,'  was 
md,"  con- 
iinarily  so 
easily  any 

loves  him 
spare  him 
ules  could 

pleasant 
lis  hillock 


where  we  have  so  often  before  rested,  and  let  us  speak 
of  more  serious  matters.  I  have  decided  to  settle  in 
Canada.  I  have  lately  sold  a  property  which  was  left  to 
me  by  one  of  my  cousins.  My  fortune,  although  but 
moderate  in  the  old  country,  will  be  counted  large  out 
here,  where  my  happiest  days  have  been  spent,  and 
where  I  propose  to  live  and  die  among  my  friends. 
What  do  you  say,  Blanche  ? " 

*'  Nothing  in  the  world  could  please  us  more.  Oh, 
how  happy  Jules  will  be,  how  glad  we  will  all  be  ! " 

*■  Yes,  you  will  all  be  pleased,  doubtless  ;  but  my 
happiness  can  never  be  perfect,  Blanche,  unless  you  will 
consent  to  make  it  so  by  giving  me  your  hand.  I 
love — *■ 

The  girl  sprang  to  her  feet  as  if  an  adder  had  stung 
her    With  trembling  lips  and  pale  with  anger,  she  cried  : 

"  You  offend  me.  Captain  de  Lochiel !  You  have 
not  considered  the  cruelty  of  the  offer  you  are  making 
me !  Is  it  now  you  make  me  such  a  proposal,  when  the 
flames  that  you  and  yours  have  lighted  in  my  unhappy 
country  are  hardly  yet  extinguished  ?  Is  it  now,  while 
the  smoke  yet  rises  from  our  ruined  homes,  that  you 
offer  me  the  hand  of  one  of  our  destroyers  ?  There 
would,  indeed,  be  a  bitter  irony  in  lighting  the  marriage 
torch  at  the  smoking  ashes  of  my  unhappy  country ! 
They  would  say,  Captain  de  Lochiel,  that  your  gold  had 
bought  the  hand  of  the  poor  Canadian  girl ;  and  never 
will  a  D'Haberville  endure  such  humiliation.  O  Archie  ! 
Archie  !  I  would  never  have  expected  it  of  you,  you 
the  friend  of  my  childhood  !  You  know  not  what  you 
are  doing  !  "    And  Blanche  burst  into  teavs. 

Never  had  the  noble  Canadian  girl  appeared  so  beau- 
tiful in  Archie's  eyes  as  now,  when  she  rejected  with 
proud  disdain  the  hand  of  one  of  her  country's  con- 
querors. 


li 


246 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


**Calm  yourself,  Blanche,"  answered  Lochiel.  "I 
admire  your  patriotism.  I  appreciate  the  exalted  deli- 
cacy of  your  sentiments,  however  unjust  they  may  be 
toward  the  friend  ^f  your  childhood.  Never  would  a 
Cameron  of  Lochiel  give  offense  to  any  lady,  least  of  all 
to  the  sister  of  Jules  d'Haberville,  to  the  daughter  of  his 
benefactor.  You  know,  Blanche,  that  I  never  act  with- 
out due  reflection.  For  you  to  reject  with  scorn  the 
hand  of  an  Englishman  so  soon  after  the  conquest 
would  be  but  natural  in  a  D'HabervUe  ;  but  as  for  mo, 
Blanche,  you  know  that  I  have  loved  you  long — you 
could  not  be  ignorant  of  it,  in  spite  of  my  silence.  The 
penniless  young  exile  would  have  failed  in  every  honor- 
able sentiment  had  he  declared  his  love  for  the  daughte  r 
of  his  rich  benefactor.  Is  it  because  I  am  rich  now,  is 
it  because  the  chance  of  war  has  made  us  victorious  in 
the  struggle,  is  it  because  fate  made  of  me  an  unwilling 
instrument  of  destruction,  is  it  because  of  all  this  that  I 
must  bury  in  my  heart  one  of  the  noblest  emotions  of 
our  nature,  and  acknowledge  myself  defeated  without  an 
effort  ?  No,  Blanche,  you  surely  can  not  think  it ;  you 
have  spoken  without  reflection;  you  regret  the  harsh 
words  which  have  escaped  you.  Speak,  Blanche,  and 
say  that  you  did  not  mean  it." 

"  I  will  be  candid  with  you,  Archie,"  replied  Blanche. 
**  I  will  be  as  frank  as  a  peasant  girl  who  has  studied 
neither  her  feelings  nor  her  words — as  a  country  girl 
who  has  forgotteii  the  conventionalities  of  that  society 
from  which  she  has  so  long  been  banished — and  I  will 
speak  with  my  heart  upon  my  lips.  You  had  all  that 
could  captivate  a  girl  of  fifteen  years — noble  birth,  wit, 
beauty,  strength,  and  a  generous  and  lofty  heart.  What 
more  could  be  needed  to  charm  an  enthusiastic  girl? 
Archie,  if  the  penniless  young  exile  had  asked  my  par- 
ents for  my  hand,  and  they  had  granted  his  request,  I 


LOCHJEL  AND  BLANCHE, 


247 


liel.  "  I 
ted  deli- 
may  be 
would  a 
ast  of  all 
ter  of  his 
act  with- 
corn  the 
conquest 
5  for  mc, 
»ng — you 
:e.  The 
y  honor- 
daughtcr 
h  now,  is 
Drious  in 
unwilling 
lis  that  I 
otions  01 
ithout  an 
:  it ;  you 
le  harsh 
che,  and 

Blanche. 

studied 
ntry  girl 
t  society 
nd  I  will 

all  that 
irth,  wit, 
What 
;tic  girl? 

my  par- 
equesi,  I 


should  have  been  proud  and  happy  to  obey.  But,  Cap- 
tain de  Lochiel,  there  is  now  a  gulf  between  us  which  I 
will  never  cross."  And  again  the  girl's  voice  was  choked 
with  sobs. 

'*  But  I  implore  you,  my  brother  Archie,"  continued 
she,  taking  his  hand,  "  do  not  alter  your  intention  of 
settling  in  Canada.  Buy  property  in  our  neighborhood, 
so  that  we  can  see  you  continually.  And  if,  in  *^he  ordi- 
nary course  of  nature  (for  you  are  eight  years  older  than 
I),  I  should  have  the  unhappiness  to  lose  you,  be  sure 
that  you  would  be  mourned  as  bitterly  by  your  sister 
Blanche  as  if  she  had  been  your  wife.  And  now  it  is 
getting  late,  Archie,  and  we  must  return  to  the  house," 
she  added,  pressing  his  hand  affectionately  between  both 
of  hers. 

"  You  will  never  be  so  cruel  toward  me  and  toward 
yourself,"  cried  Archie,  "  as  to  persist  in  this  refusal ! 
Yes,  toward  yourself,  Blanche,  for  the  love  of  a  heart 
like  yours  does  n^/t  die  out  *ike  a  common  passion  ;  it 
resists  time  and  all  vicissitu  les.  Jules  will  plead  my 
cause  on  his  return,  and  his  si  5ter  will  not  refuse  him  his 
first  request.     Oh,  tell  me  that  I  may  hope  !  " 

"  Never,  Archie,  never,"  said  Blanche.  "  The  women 
of  my  family,  as  well  as  the  men,  have  never  failed  in 
their  iuty — have  never  shrunk  from  any  sacrifice,  how- 
ever painful.  Two  of  my  aunts,  while  yet  very  young, 
said  one  day  to  my  father:  'You  have  no  more  than 
enough,  D'Haberville,  to  maintain  the  dignity  of  the 
house.  Our  dowry  would  make  a  considerable  breach 
in  your  means.  To-morrow  we  shall  ^nter  a  convent, 
where  all  is  prepared  to  receive  us.*  Prayers,  threats, 
the  fury  of  my  father — all  proved  vain;  they  entered 
the  convent,  where  they  have  not  wearied  of  good  deeds 
to  this  day.  As  for  me,  Archie,  I  have  other  duties  to 
perform — duties  very  dear  to  me.     I  must  sweeten  life 


248 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


as  far  as  possible  for  my  parents,  must  help  them  to  for- 
get their  misfortunes,  must  care  for  them  in  their  old 
age,  and  must  close  their  eyes  at  the  last.  My  brother 
Jules  will  marry;  I  will  nurse  hifi  children,  and  share 
alike  his  good  and  evil  fortune." 

Lochiel  and  Blanche  walked  toward  the  house  in 
silence.  The  last  rays  of  the  setting  sun,  mirrored  in 
the  swelling  tide,  lent  a  new  charm  to  the  enchanting 
scene ;  but  to  their  eyes  the  loveliness  of  nature  seemed 
to  have  suddenly  faded  out.  The  next  day,  toward 
evening,  a  favorable  wind  arose.  The  vessel  which  had 
brought  Lochiel  weighed  anchor  at  once,  and  M.  d'Ha- 
berville  instructed  Jos^  to  convey  his  young  friend  to 
Quebec. 

During  the  journey  there  was  no  lack  of  conversation 
between  the  two  travelers ;  their  subjects  were  inex- 
haustible. Toward  five  o'clock  in  the  morning,  however, 
as  they  were  passing  Beaumont,  Lochiel  said  to  Jos^  : 

**  I  am  as  sleepy  as  a  marmot.  We  sat  up  late  yes- 
terday, and  I  was  so  feverish  that  I  got  no  sleep  for 
the  rest  of  the  night.  Do  sing  me  a  song  to  keep  me 
awake." 

He  knew  the  hoarseness  and  vigor  of  his  compan- 
ion's voice,  and  he  put  great  faith  in  it  as  an  anti- 
soporific. 

"  I  can  not  refuse,"  answered  Jos^,  who,  like  many 
others  blessed  with  a  discordant  voice,  prided  himself 
greatly  on  his  singing.  "  The  more  sleepy  you  are  the 
more  risk  you  run  of  breaking  your  head  on  the  rocks, 
which  have  never  been  cleared  away  since  La  Corri- 
veau's  memorable  trip;  but  I  hardly  know  what  to  begin 
with.  How  would  you  like  a  song  on  the  taking  of 
Berg-op-Zoom  ?  " 

*'  Berg-op-Zoom  will  do,"  said  Archie,  "  though  the 
English  were  pretty  badly  treated  there." 


\ 


LOCHIEL  AND  BLANCHE, 


249 


n  to  for- 

heir  old 

brother 

id  share 

louse  in 
rored  in 
chanting 
;  seemed 
toward 
lich  had 
I.  d'Ha- 
riend  to 

^ersation 
re  inex- 
lowever, 
Jos^ : 
ate  yes- 
leep  for 
keep  me 

;()mpan- 
m  anti- 

:e  many 
himself 
are  the 

e  rocks, 
Corri- 

to  begin 

.king  of 

ugh  the 


% 


"  Hem  !  hem  !  "  coughed  Jos^.  *'  Nothing  like  a 
little  revenge  on  the  enemy  that  handled  us  so  roughly 
in  '59."     And  he  struck  up  the  following : 

"A  Te  Deum  for  him  who  was  born  the  doom  {^repeat) 
Of  the  stout-walled  city  of  Berg-op-Zoom  {repeat), 
By'r  lady,  he  wants  the  best  that's  going, 
Who  can  do  up  a  siege  in  a  style  so  knowing." 

"How  charmingly  naive/"  cried  Lochiel. 

"Is  it  not,  captain?"  said  jos6,  very  proud  of  his 
success. 

"  Indeed,  yes,  my  dear  Jos^ ;  but  go  on.  I  am  in  a 
hurry  to  hear  the  end.  Do  not  halt  upon  so  good  a 
road." 

"  Thank  you,  captain,"  said  Jos^,  touching  his  cap, 

"  Like  Alexander  who  lived  of  old  {tepeat\ 
His  body  is  small,  but  his  heart  is  bold  {repeat). 
God  gave  him  all  Alexander's  wit, 
And  Caesar's  wisdom  on  top  of  it ! " 

"  *  His  body  is  small  but  his  heart  is  bold,'  "  repeated 
Archie,  "  is  a  very  happy  touch  !  Where  did  you  pick 
up  this  song  ? " 

"A  grenadier  who  was  at  the  siege  of  Berg-op-Zoom 
sang  it  to  my  late  father.  He  said  that  it  was  terribly 
hot  work  there,  and  he  carried  the  marks  of  it.  He 
had  only  one  eye  left,  and  the  skin  was  torn  off  his  face 
from  his  forehead  to  his  jaw-bone  ;  but,  as  all  these 
damages  were  on  the  left  side,  he  still  could  manage  his 
gun  properly  on  th^  right.  But  let  us  leave  him  to  look 
out  for  himself.  He  is  a  jolly  lad  who  would  dance  a 
jig  on  his  own  grave,  and  I  need  not  concern  myself 
about  him.     Here's  the  third  and  last  verse:  - 

"Oh,  we  combed  the  hides  of  the  English  well  {repeat)^ 
A  very  bad  lot,  as  I've  heard  tell !  {repeat) 
They'll  shake,  by'r  lady,  till  they  get  home, 
For  fear  of  our  boys  and  their  curry-comb." 


250 


THE   CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


•^ilil 


**  Delightful,  'pon  honor!"  cried  Lochiel.  "These 
English  who  were  a  very  bad  lot !  These  soldiers  armed 
with  the  curry-comb !  How  exquisitely  «air;^/  Charm- 
ing !  " 

"By  our  lady,  though,  captain,"  said  Jos^,  "they  are 
not  always  so  easy  to  comb,  these  English.  Like  our 
good  horse  Lubine  here,  they  are  sometimes  very  bad- 
humored  and  ugly  to  handle  if  one  rubs  them  too  hard. 
Witness  the  first  battle  of  the  Plains  of  Abraham  !  " 

"  It  was  the  English,  was  it  not,  who  carried  the 
curry-comb  then  ?  "  remarked  Archie. 

For  reply,  Jos^  merely  lifted  up  the  stump  of  his  arm, 
around  which  he  had  twisted  the  leather  of  his  whip. 

For  a  time  our  travelers  journeyed  on  in  silence,  and 
again  Archie  grew  heavy  with  sleep.  Perceiving  this, 
Jos^  cried : 

"  Captain,  captain,  you're  nearly  asleep  !  Take  care, 
or  you're  going  to  break  your  nose,  begging  your  par- 
don. I  think  you  want  another  song  to  wake  you  up. 
Shall  I  sing  you  the  Complaint  of  Biron  ?  " 

"  Who  was  Biron  ? "  inquired  Lochiel 

"  Uncle  Raoul,  who  is  so  learned,  told  me  that  he 
was  a  prince,  a  great  warrior,  the  relative  and  friend  of 
our  late  King  Henry  IV ;  which  did  not  prevent  the 
latter  from  having  him  executed  just  as  if  he  was  a  no- 
body. When  I  made  my  lament  upon  his  death,  Uncle 
Raoul  and  the  captain  told  me  that  he  had  proved  a 
traitor  to  the  king,  and  forbid  me  even  to  sing  the  com- 
plaint in  their  presence.  This  struck  me  as  rather  droll, 
but  I  obeyed  them  all  the  same." 

"  I  have  never  heard  of  this  lament,"  said  Archie  ; 
"  and  as  I  am  not  particularly  sensitive  in  regard  to  the 
kings  of  France,  I  wish  you  would  sing  it  for  me." 

Thereupon  Jos^  struck  up,  in  a  voice  of  thunder,  the 
following  lament :  ,     ,  ,,  «     ^^ 


LOCHIEL  AND  BLANCHE. 


251 


"  These 

ers  armed 

Charm- 

**  they  are 
Like  our 

very  bad- 
too  hard. 

im!" 

irried  the 

if  his  arm, 
5  whip, 
lence,  and 
ving  this, 

Pake  care, 
your  par- 
e  you  up. 


le  that  he 
friend  of 
event  the 
was  a  no- 
ith,  Uncle 
proved  a 
;  the  com- 
ther  droll, 

i  Archie  ; 
ard  to  the 
ne." 
inder,  the 


% 


i 


I 


"  The  king  he  had  been  warned  by  one  of  his  gens  d'armes^ 
(His  name  it  was  La  Fin,  that  gave  him  the  alarm,) 
'  Your  Majesty,  I  pray  you,  of  Prince  Biron  beware, 
For  he's  plotting  wicked  deeds,  and  there's  treason  in  the  air.' 

•*  La  Fin  had  hardly  spoke  when  Prince  Biron  came  in, 
His  cap  was  in  his  hand,  and  he  bowed  before  the  king. 
Said  he  :  'Will't  please  Your  Majesty  to  try  your  hand  at  play  ? 
Here's  a  thousand  Spanish  doubloons  that  I  have  won  this  day.' 

"  '  If  you  have  them  with  you,  prince,'  replied  His  Majesty, 
'  If  you  have  them  with  you,  prince,  go  find  the  queen,  and  she 
Will  play  you  for  the  Spanish  gold  you  have  not  long  to  see  ! ' 

"  He  had  not  played  two  games  when  the  constable  came  in, 
And  bowing,  cap  in  hand,  right  courtly  said  to  him  : 
'  Oh,  will  you  rise  up,  prince,  and  come  along  with  me  ? 
This  night  in  the  Bastile  your  bed  and  board  shall  be  !' 

"  '  Oh,  had  I  but  my  sword,  my  weapon  bright  and  keen. 
Oh,  had  I  but  my  saber,  my  knife  of  golden  sheen, 
No  constable  could  capture  me  that  ever  I  have  seen  ! ' 

'*  It  might  have  been  a  month,  or  may  be  two  weeks  more, 
That  no  friends  came  to  see  him  or  passed  his  prison  door ; 
At  last  came  judges  three,  pretending  not  to  know. 
And  asked  of  him,  '  Fair  prince,  oh,  who  has  used  you  so  ?  * 

"  '  Oh,  they  who  used  me  so  had  power  to  put  me  here  ; 
It  was  the  king  and  queen,  whom  I  served  for  many  a  year  j 
And  now  for  my  reward  my  death  it  draweth  near  ! 

"  '  And  does  the  king  remember  no  more  the  Savoy  War  ? 
And  has  the  king  forgotten  the  wounds  for  him  I  bore  ? 
And  is  it  my  true  service  now  that  I  must  suffer  for? 

"  *  And  has  the  king  forgotten  that  if  I  have  to  die,  » 

The  blood  of  Biron  may  to  Heaven  for  vengance  cry  ?  * 

Or  does  the  king  remember  I  have  a  brother  yet  ? 
But  when  he  sees  the  king  he  will  not  me  forget.' " 

By  this  time  Lochiel  was  thoroughly  awake.     The 
tremendous  voice  of  Jos^    would   have  awakened   the 


252 


THE   CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


sleeping  beauty  herself  from  the  depths  of  her  hundred 
years'  slumber. 

"  But  you,  sir,"  said  Jos^,  "  you  who  are  nearly  as 
learned  as  Uncle  Raoul,  you  could  perhaps  tell  me 
something  of  this  wicked  king  who  so  ungratefully  put 
this  poor  M.  Biron  to  death." 

"  Kings,  my  dear  Jos^,  never  forget  a  personal  of- 
fense, and,  like  a  great  many  smaller  people  who  can 
not  overlook  the  faults  of  others,  no  matter  how  well 
atoned  for,  for  faithful  services,  their  memory  is  very 
short." 

"Well,  now,  but  that  seems  very'queer  to  me,  when 
I  was  thinking  that  the  good  God  had  given  them  every- 
thing that  heart  could  wish !  A  short  memory !  But 
that  is  droll." 

Smiling  at  his  companion's  innocence,  Archie  re- 
plied : 

"  King  Henry  IV,  however,  had  an  excellent  mem- 
ory, although  it  failed  him  in  that  one  instance.  He 
was  a  good  prince  and  loved  his  subjects  as  if  they 
were  his  own  children,  and  he  did  all  he  could  to  make 
them  happy.  L:  is  not  surprising  that  his  memory  is 
cherished  by  all  good  Frenchmen,  even  after  a  lapse  of 
one  hundred  and  fifty  years." 

"By  our  lady,'  exclaimed  Jose,  "there's  nothing 
surprising  in  that,  if  the  subjects  have  a  better  memory 
t'lan  their  princes  !  It  was  cruel  of  him,  however,  to 
hang  this  poor  M.  Biron." 

"The  nobility  of  France  were  never  hung,"  said 
Archie.  "That  was  one  of  their  special  privileges. 
They  simply  had  their  heads  cut  off." 

"  That  was  indeed  a  privilege.  It  may  perhaps  hurt 
more,  but  it  is  much  more  glorious  to  die  by  the  sword 
than  by  the  rope,"  remarked  Jos6. 

"To  return  to  Henry  IV,"  said  Archie;  "we  must 


|l 


LOCHIEL  AND  BLANCHE, 


253 


ir  hundred 

i 

nearly  as 
)s  tell   me 

1 

tefully  put 

jrsonal  of- 

e  who  can 

•  how  well 

ry  is  very 

»  me,  when 

lem  every- 
ory !     But 

Archie  re- 
lent  mem- 

'^i. 

ance.     He 

as  if  they 
Id  to  make 

memory  is 
a  lapse  of 

*s   nothing 

er  memory 

owever,  to 

ing,"  said 
privileges. 

% 

rhaps  hurt 
the  sword 

; 

"  we  must 

i 

not  be  too  severe  in  our  condemnation  of  him.  He 
lived  in  a  difficult  period,  a  period  of  civil  war.  Biron, 
his  kinsman  and  former  friend,  turned  traitor,  and  was 
doubly  deserving  of  his  fate." 

"Poor  M.  Biron  !  "  said  Josd  ;  "but  he  speaks  finely 
in  his  lament." 

"  It  is  not  always  they  who  speak  the  best  who  have 
most  right  on  their  side,"  remarked  Archie.  "  There  is 
no  one  so  like  an  honest  man  as  an  eloquent  knave." 

"All  very  true,  Mr.  Archie.  We  have  one  poor 
thief  in  our  district,  and  as  he  doesn't  know  how  to 
defend  himself,  everybody  is  continually  getting  his 
teeth  into  him,  while  his  brother,  who  is  a  hundred 
times  worse  than  he,  has  so  smooth  a  tongue  that  he 
passes  himself  off  for  a  little  saint.  Meanwhile,  yonder 
is  Quebec !  But  no  more  the  white  flag  waving  over 
her,"  added  Jos^,  sighing. 

Te  hide  his  emotion,  he  went  searching  in  all  his 
pockets  for  his  pipe,  grumbling  to  himself  and  repeating 
his  old  r  if  rain  : 

"Our  g)od  folk  will  come  again." 

Jos^  spent  two  days  in  Quebec,  and  returned  loaded 
with  all  the  presents  that  Archie  thought  would  find 
acceptance  at  D'Haberville  Manor,  Such  rich  gifts  as 
he  would  have  sent  under  other  circumstances  he  dared 
not  send  now,  for  fear  of  wounding  his  friends.  In 
bidding  Jos^  farewell,  he  said  : 

"  I  left  my  prayer-book  at  the  manor  house.  Beg 
Miss  Blanche  to  take  care  of  it  till  I  return.  It  was 
a  keepsake." 


CHAPTER   XVII. 


THE    FAMILY    HEARTH. 


r 


Many  a  calamity  had  swept  over  the  land  since 
the  day  when  the  relations  and  friends  of  Jules  had 
gathered  at  the  manor  house  to  bid  him  farewell  be- 
fore his  departure  for  France.  Among  the  old  men 
time  had  made  his  customary  inroads.  The  enemy 
hb.d  carried  iire  and  sword  into  the  peaceful  dwellings 
of  the  habitants.  The  famine  numbered  its  victims  by 
the  hundred.  The  soil  had  been  drenched  with  the 
blood  of  its  brave  defenders.  Wind  and  sea  had  con- 
spired against  many  of  those  brave  officers  from  whom 
sword  and  bullet  had  turned  aside.  Nature  was  satiated 
with  the  blood  of  the  children  of  New  France.  The 
future  was  dark  indeed  for  the  upper  classes,  already 
ruined  by  the  havoc  of  the  enemy,  for  those  who,  in 
laying  by  the  sword,  were  compelled  to  lay  by  the  main 
support  of  their  families,  and  for  those  who  foresaw  that 
their  descendants,  reduced  to  a  lower  walk  in  life, 
would  be  compelled  to  till  the  soil  which  their  valiant 
ancestors  had  made  illustrious. 

The  city  of  Quebec,  which  of  old  had  seemed  to 
brave,  upon  its  hill  summit,  the  thunders  of  the  heaviest 
guns  and  the  assaults  of  the  most  daring  battalions,  the 
proud  city  of  Quebec,  still  incumbered  with  wreckage, 
raised  itself  with  difficulty  cut  of  its  ruins.  The  British 
flag  streamed  triumphant  from  its  overbearing  citadel, 


THE  FAMILY  HEARTH. 


255 


ind  since 
Jules  had 
ewell   be- 
old  men 
le   enemy- 
dwellings 
ictims  by 
with  the 
had  con- 
om  whom 
LS  satiated 
ice.     The 
s,  already 
e  who,  in 
the  main 
resaw  that 
c   in   life, 
ir  valiant 

eemed  to 
e  heaviest 
ilions,  the 
wreckage, 
he  British 
g  citadel, 


and  the  Canadian  who,  by  force  of  habit,  used  to  raise 
his  eyes  to  the  height  in  expectation  of  seeing  the  lily 
banner,  would  drop  them  again  sadly,  repeating  with  a 
sigh  these  touching  words,  "  But  our  good  kin  will 
come  again." 

The  reader  will  doubtless  be  gratified  to  see  his  old 
acquaintances,  after  so  many  disasters  bravely  endured, 
once  more  gathered  together  at  a  little  banquet. 
This  was  a  feast  given  by  M.  d'Haberville  in  honor  of 
his  son's  return.  Even  "  the  good  gentleman  "  hiirseli, 
though  nearing  the  close  of  his  century,  had  responded 
in  person  to  the  summons.  Captain  des  Ecors,  a  com- 
rade of  M.  d'Haberville,  a  brave  officer  who  had  been 
brought  to  ruin  by  the  conquest,  formed  with  his  family  a 
congenial  addition  to  the  gathering.  One  of  Jules's 
kinsfolk  who  perished  in  the  wreck  of  the  Auguste  had 
left  him  a  small  legacy,  which  brought  a  new  comfort  to 
the  D'Habervilles,  and  enabled  them  to  exercise  a  hos- 
pitality from  which  they  had  been  long  and  reluctantly 
debarred. 

All  the  guests  were  at  table,  after  vainly  waiting  for 
the  arrival  of  Lochiel,  who  was  as  a  rule  the  most  punc- 
tual of  men. 

''Well,  my  friends,"  said  M.  d'Haberville,  "what 
think  you  now  of  the  omens  which  so  saddened  me 
ten  years  ago?  What  is- your  opinion,  Monsieur  the 
Cur6,  of  those  mysterious  warnings  which  Heaven  ap- 
peared to  send  me  ?  " 

"  I  think,"  answered  the  priest,  "that  every  one  has 
had,  or  imagined  himself  to  have,  more  or  less  mysteri- 
ous warnings,  ev^tn  in  the  most  remote  epochs.  But, 
without  going  too  fir  back,  Roman  history  is  rife  with 
prodigies  and  portents.  Occurrences  the  most  insignifi- 
cant were  classed  as  good  or  bad  omens.  The  sooth- 
sayers consulted  the  flight  of  birds,  the  entrails  of  the 


256 


THE   CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


I 


sacrificial  victims,  and  what  not !  Further,  they  say 
that  no  two  of  these  holy  and  veracious  personages  could 
look  at  each  other  without  laughing." 

"  And  you  conclude  from  this — ? "  queried  M.  d'Ha- 
berville. 

"  I  conclude,"  said  the  priest,  "  that  we  need  not 
greatly  concern  ourselves  about  such  manifestations. 
Supposing  Heaven  were  pleased,  in  certain  exceptional 
cases,  to  give  visible  signs  as  to  the  future,  this  would 
but  add  one  more  to  the  already  numberless  ills  of  poor 
humanity.  We  are  by  nature  superstitious,  and  we  should 
be  kept  in  a  state  of  feverish  apprehensiouj  far  worse 
than  the  actual  evils  supposed  to  be  foreshadowed." 

"  Well,"  said  M  d'Haberville,  who,  like  many  more, 
consulted  others  merely  as  a  matter  of  form,  "  my  own 
experience  compels  me  to  believe  that  such  omens  are 
very  often  to  be  trusted.  To  me  they  have  never  played 
false.  Besides  those  which  you  yourselves  have  wit- 
nessed, I  could  cite  you  a  host  of  others.  For  instance, 
about  fifteen  years  ago  I  was  leading  a  war  party  against 
the  Iroquois.  My  band  was  made  up  of  Canadians  and 
Huron  Indians.  We  were  on  the  march,  when  suddenly 
I  felt  a  sharp  pain  in  my  thigh,  as  if  I  had  been  struck 
by  some  hard  substance.  The  pang  was  sharp  enough 
to  make  me  halt  a  moment.  I  told  my  Indians  about 
it.  They  looked  at  each  other  uneasily,  consulted  the 
horizon,  and  breathed  deeply,  sniffing  the  air  in  every 
direction,  like  dogs  in  quest  of  game.  Then,  certain 
that  tmere  were  no  enemies  in  the  neighborhood,  they 
resumed  their  march.  I  asked  Petit-6tienne,  the  chief, 
who  appeared  uneasy,  if  he  was  dreading  a  surprise. 
*  Not  that  I  know  of,'  said  he,  'but  at  our  first  encoun- 
ter with  the  enemy  you  will  be  wounded  just  where  you 
felt  the  pain.'  Of  course  I  laughed  at  the  prediction ; 
but  for  all  that,  not  two  hours  later  an  Iroquois  bullet 


they  say 
lages  could 

i  M.  d'Ha- 

need  not 
ifestations. 
exceptional 
this  would 
ills  of  poor 
1  we  should 

far  worse 
owed." 
nany  more, 
i,  "  my  own 
omens  are 
ever  played 

have  wit- 

)r  instance, 

irty  against 

adians  and 

n  suddenly 

)een  struck 

arp  enough 

ians  about 

suited  the 

ir  in  every 

en,  certain 

hood,  they 

the  chief, 
a  surprise. 
•St  encoun- 
where  you 

rediction ; 
luois  bullet 


THE  FAMILY  HEARTH. 


257 


went  through  my  thigh  at  the  spot  in  question,  fortu- 
nately escaping  the  bone.  No,  gentlemen  ;  omens  have 
proved  faithful  in  my  own  case." 

*'  And  what  thinks  Monsieur  the  Chevalier  ? "  asked 
the  priest. 

*'I  think,"  said  Uncle  Raoul,  "that  there  is  good 
wine  on  the  table,  and  that  it  is  our  pressing  duty  to 
attack  it." 

*'  An  admirable  decision !  "  cried  everybody. 

'*  The  wine,"  remarked  Jules,  "  is  the  most  faithful 
of  presages,  for  it  announces  happiness  and  mirth.  In 
I -roof  of  it,  here  is  our  friend  Lochiel  coming  up  the 
avenue.     I  am  going  to  meet  him  " 

"You  see,  my  dear  Archie,"  said  the  captain,  greet- 
ing him  warmly,  "you  see  that  we  have  treated  you 
without  ceremony,  as  a  child  of  the  family.  We  only 
waited  tor  you  half  an  hour.  Knowing  your  soldierly 
punctuality,  we  feared  that  some  unavoidable  business 
had  prevented  your  coming." 

"  I  should  have  been  much  grieved  if  you  had  treat- 
ed me  otherwise  than  as  a  child  of  the  family,"  answered 
Archie.  "  I  had  planned  to  be  here  quite  early  this 
morning,  but  I  did  not  make  sufficient  allowance  for 
your  fir  ^  quagmire  at  Cap  St.-Ignace.  First  of  all,  my 
horse  goi  into  a  bog-hole,  whence  I  extricated  him  at 
the  cost  of  the  harness,  which  I  had  to  do  without  as 
best  I  could.  Then  I  broke  a  wheel  of  my  carriage, 
whereupon  I  had  to  go  and  seek  help  at  the  nearest 
house,  about  a  mile  and  a  half  away.  For  most  of  the 
distance  1  was  wadini;  through  mufJ  up  to  my  knees,  and 
when  I  got  the  •"  I  wks  half  dead  with  fatigue." 

"  Ah,  my  dear  Archie,"  said  Jules,  the  ceaseless 
madKer,  "  quantum  mutatus  ab  illo,  as  Uncle  Raoul  would 
have  said  if  I  hadn't  got  ahead  of  hira.  Where  are  your 
mighty  legs,  of  which  you  were  once  so  proud  in  that 


258 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD, 


same  morass?  Have  they  lost  their  agility  since  the 
28th  of  April,  1760?  They  served  you  admirably  in 
that  retreat,  as  I  predicted  they  would." 

"  It  is  true,"  replied  Lochiel,  laughing  heartily,  **  that 
they  did  not  fail  me  in  the  retreat  oi  1760,  as  you  so 
considerately  call  it,  but,  my  dear  Jules,  you  had  no 
reason  to  complain  of  your  own,  short  as  they  are,  in  the 
retreat  of  1759.  One  compliment  deserves  another  you 
know,  always  with  due  regard  to  a  soldier's  modesty." 

"  Ah,  but  you're  all  astray  there,  my  dear  fellow.  A 
scratch  which  I  had  received  from  an  English  bullet  was 
interfering  very  seriously  with  my  flight,  when  a  tall 
grenadier  who  had  somehow  taken  a  fancy  to  me,  threw 
me  over  his  shoulder  with  no  more  ceremony  than  as  if 
I  were  his  haversack,  and,  continuing  his  retreat  at  full 
speed,  deposited  me  at  length  within  the  walls  of  Que- 
bec. It  was  time.  In  his  zeal,  the  creature  had  carried 
me  with  my  head  hanging  down  his  rascally  back,  like  a 
calf  on  the  way  to  the  butcher's,  so  that  I  was  almost 
choked  by  the  time  he  landed  me.  Would  you  believe 
it,  the  rascal  had  the  audacity  some  time  afterward,  to 
ask  me  for  o.  pour-boire  for  himself  and  his  friends,  who 
were  so  glad  to  see  their  little  grenadier  once  more  upon 
his  feet ;  and  I  was  fool  enough  to  treat  the  crowd. 
You  see,  I  never  could  keep  up  a  grudge.  But  here  is 
your  dinner,  piping  hot,  which  your  friend  Lisette  has 
kept  in  the  oven  for  you.  To  be  sure,  you  deserve  to 
take  your  dinner  in  the  kitchen,  for  the  anxiety  that  you 
have  been  causing  us  ;  but  we'll  let  that  pass.  Here  is 
Jose  bringing  you  an  appetizer,  according  to  the  custom 
of  all  civilized  nations.  The  old  fellow  is  so  glad  to  see 
you  that  he  is  showing  his  teeth  from  ear  to  ear.  I 
assure  you  that  he  is  not  one-handed  when  he  is  giving 
his  friends  a  drink,  and  still  less  so  when,  like  his  late 
father,  he  is  taking  one  himself." 


THE  FAMILY  HEARTH, 


259 


ity  since  the 
admirably  in 

leartily, "  that 

)o,  as  you  so 

you  had  no 

ley  are,  in  the 

another  you 

1  modesty." 

ar  fellow.     A 

ish  bullet  was 

when  a  tall 

to  me,  threw 

ny  than  as  if 

etreat  at  full 

vails  of  Que- 

e  had  carried 

^  back,  like  a 

;  was  almost 

you  believe 

afterward,  to 

friends,  who 

e  more  upon 

the  crowd. 

But  here  is 

Lisette  has 

u  deserve  to 

ety  that  you 

IS.     Here  is 

the  custom 

glad  to  see 

to  ear.     I 

le  is  giving 

ke  his  late 


"Our  young  master,"  answered  Jos6,  putting  the 
empty  plate  under  his  arm  in  order  to  shake  Archie's 
hand,  "  our  young  master  is  always  at  his  jokes ;  but 
Mr.  Archie  knows  very  well  that  if  there  was  only  one 
glass  of  brandy  left  in  the  world  I  should  give  it  to  him 
rather  than  drink  it  myself.  As  for  my  poor  late  father, 
he  was  a  very  systematic  man ;  so  many  drinks  a  day 
and  not  a  drop  more— always  barring  weddings  and  fes- 
tivals and  other  special  occasions.  He  knew  how  to 
live  with  propriety,  and  also  how  to  tnke  his  little  recrea- 
tions from  time  to  time,  the  worthy  man  !  All  I  can 
say  is,  that  when  he  entertained  his  friends  he  didn't 
keep  the  bottle  under  the  table." 

In  The  Vicar  of  Wakefield  Goldsmith  makes  the 
good  pastor  say : 

"  I  can't  say  whether  we  had  more  wit  among  us  than 
usual,  but  I'm  certain  we  had  more  laughing,  which  an- 
swered the  end  as  well." 

The  same  might  be  said  of  the  present  gathering, 
over  which  there  reigned  that  French  light-heartedness 
which  seems,  alas,  to  be  disappearing  in  what  Homer 
would  call  these  degenerate  days. 

"  Neighbor,"  said  Captain  d'Haberville  to  Captain 
des  Ecors,  "  if  your  little  difficulty  with  General  Murray 
has  not  spoiled  your  throat  for  singing,  please  set  a  good 
example  by  giving  us  a  song." 

"  Indeed,"  said  Archie,  "  I  heard  that  you  had  great 
difficulty  in  escaping  the  clutches  of  our  bad-tempered 
general,  but  I  am  unacquainted  with  the  particulars." 

"  When  I  think  of  it,  my  friend,"  exclaimed  Captain 
des  Ecors,  "  I  feel  something  of  a  strangling  sensation 
in  my  throat.  I  should  not  complain,  however,  for  in 
my  case  the  general  conducted  affairs  in  due  order;  in- 
stead of  hanging  me  first  and  trying  me  afterward,  he 
came  to  the  wise  conclusion  that  the  trial  had  better 


:# 


^V' 


•■xt 


260 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


precede  the  hanging.  The  fate  of  the  unhappy  miller 
Nadeau,  my  fellow-prisoner,  who  was  accused  of  the 
same  crime  as  myself,  and  who  was  not  tried  until  after 
his  execution — the  sad  fate  of  this  respectable  man, 
whose  innocence  he  heard  too  late,  led  him  to  hesitate 
before  hanging  me  untried.  In  my  captivity  I  passed 
many  a  bad  quarter  of  an  hour.  All  communication 
with  the  outside  world  was  forbidden  me.  I  had  no 
means  of  learning  what  fate  was  in  store  for  me.  Every 
day  I  asked  the  sentinel  who  was  walking  up  and  down 
beneath  my  window  if  he  had  any  news  for  me,  and  ordi- 
narily I  received  in  answer  a  cordial  'goddam.'  At 
last  a  soldier,  more  accessible  and  good-humored,  who 
could  jabber  a  scrap  of  French,  replied  to  my  question, 
^Vous  pendar  sept  heures  le  matinguU*  I  believe  this 
jolly  and  sympathetic  creature  put  all  his  knowledge  of 
French  into  that  one  phrase,  for  to  every  other  question 
I  asked  I  received  the  same  reply — ^Vous  pendar  sept 
heures  le  matingul I*  It  was  easy  to  gather  from  this 
that  I  was  to  be  hung  some  morning  at  seven  o'clock, 
but  what  morning  I  could  not  learn.  The  outlook  was 
anything  but  cheerful.  For  three  whole  days  I  had  seen 
the  body  of  the  unfortunate  Nadeau  hanging  from  one 
of  the  arms  of  his  wind  mill,  the  plaything  of  the  gale. 
Every  morning  I  expected  that  I  should  be  called  to 
take  his  place  on  this  novel  and  ingenious  gibbet." 

"  Infamous  !  "  cried  Archie.  "  And  the  man  was 
innocent ! " 

"  This  was  proved  at  the  inquest  which  was  held 
after  the  execution,"  replied  Captain  des  Ecors.  "  I 
should  add  that  General  Murray  appeared  to  repent 
with  bitterness  for  tii*^  murder,  which  he  had  committed 
in  his  haste.  He  heaped  Nadeau's  family  with  benefits, 
and  adopted  his  two  little  orphan  daughters,  whom  he 
took  with  him  to  England.     Poor  Nadeau  !  " 


THE  FAMILY  HEARTH. 


261 


appy  miller 
ised  of  the 
1  until  after 
stable  man^ 
1  to  hesitate 
ity  I  passed 
imunication 
I  had  no 
me.  Every 
p  and  down 
le,  and  ordi- 
ddam.'  At 
imored,  who 
ny  question, 
believe  this 
nowledge  of 
her  question 
pendar  sept 
;r  from  this 
ven  o'clock, 
outlook  was 
s  I  had  seen 
tig  from  one 
of  the  gale, 
be  called  to 
;ibbet." 
le  man  was 

ch  was  held 
Ecors.  "  I 
d  to  repent 
d  committed 
vith  benefits, 
rs,  whom  he 


All  the  company  echoed  the  words  "  Poor  Na- 
deau ! " 

"  Alas  !  "  said  Des  Ecor  philosophically,  "  if  we  were 
to  set  ourselves  lamenting  for  all  who  have  lost  their 
lives  by—  But  let  us  change  a  subject  so  painful." 
Then  he  sang  the  following  song  : 

"  The  new  Narcissus  am  I  named, 

Whom  all  men  most  admire  ; 
From  water  have  I  been  reclaimed, 

In  wine  to  drown  my  fire. 
When  I  behold  the  rosy  hue 

That  gives  my  face  renown, 
Enraptured  with  the  lovely  view, 

I  drink  my  image  down. 

"  In  all  the  universe  is  naught 

But  tribute  pays  to  thee  ; 
Even  the  winter's  ice  is  brought 

For  thy  benignant  glee. 
The  Earth  exerts  her  anxious  care 

Thy  nurture  to  assist  ; 
To  ripen  thee  the  sun  shines  fair  ; 

To  drink  thee  I  exist." 

The  songs  and  choruses  succeeded  each  other  rap- 
idly. That  contributed  by  Madame  Vincelot  wrought 
up  the  merriment  of  the  party  to  a  high  pitch. 


"  This  festal  board,  this  royal  cheer, 
They  clearly  tell 
(They  clearly  tell) 
Our  host  is  glad  to  have  us  here, 
And  feast  us  well 
(And  feast  us  well) ; 
For  even  he  permits  that  we 
Make  Charivari !    Charivari !    Charivari ! 

•'  Now  pour  me  out  a  glass,  kind  host, 
Of  this  good  wine  {repeat\ 


■'I- 


w^w 


;i:i  1 


n    ■ 


I      •'; 


262  T//£  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 

For  I  would  drink  a  loving  toast — 

This  wife  of  thine  {repeat)^ 
Who  smilingly  permits  that  we 
Make  Charivari !    Charivari !    Charivari ! " 

To  this  Madame  d'Haberville  added  the  following 
impromptu  stanza : 

"  If  our  fcu'^eavor  to  make  your  cheer 

Be  not  1.1  vain  {repeat), 
Consider  you're  the  masters  here, 

And  come  again  {repeat). 
And  it  shall  be  your  care  that  we 
Make  Charivari  !    Charivari !    Charivari  !  " 

Then  Jules  added  a  verse  : 

"  Without  a  spice  of  rivalry 

Dan  Cupid  nods  {repeat), 
But  challenge  him  to  cups,  and  he 

*L1  accept  the  odds  {repeat). 
Bacchus  and  he,  as  well  as  we, 
Make  Charivari !    Charivari  !    Charivari ! " 

At  the  end  of  each  stanza  every  one  pounded  on  the 
table  with  their  hands  or  rapped  on  the  plates  with 
their  forks  and  spoons^  till  the  din  became  sometliing 
indescribable. 

Blanche,  being  asked  to  sing  her  favorite  song  of 
Blaise  and  Babette,  endeavored  to  excuse  herself  and 
substitute  another ;  but  the  young  ladies  insisted,  cry- 
ing :  "  Let  us  have  Blaise  and  Babette  by  all  means ; 
the  minor  is  so  touching." 

"Yes,"  said  Jules,  "that  is  a  minor,  with  its  'My 
love  it  is  my  life  * ;  a  minor  to  touch  the  tenderest  cho/d 
in  the  feminine  heart.  Quick,  let  us  have  the  sweet 
minor,  to  touch  the  hearts  of  these  charming  young 
ladies ! " 

"  We*ll  make  you  pay  for  that  in  blindman's  buff, 
said  one  of  them. 


>f 


THE  FAMILY  HEARTH. 


263 


following 


1 


"And  in  the  game  of  forfeits,"  said  another. 

"Look  out  for  yourself,  my  boy,"  said  Jules,  ad- 
dressing himself,  "  for  in  the  hands  of  these  young  ladies 
you  stand  no  better  chance  than  a  cat  without  claws 
would  in — hades !  No  matter.  Sing  away,  my  dear 
sister.  Your  voice,  perhaps,  like  that  of  Orpheus,  will 
assuage  the  fury  of  your  enemies." 

"  The  wretch  ! "  chorused  the  young  ladies,  "  to  com- 
pare us —  But,  never  mind,  we'll  settle  with  you  later. 
Meanwhile,  sing  us  the  song,  Blanche,  dear." 

The  latter  still  hesitated.  Then,  fearing  to  attract 
attention  by  her  refusal,  she  sang  the  following  song 
with  tears  in  her  voice.  It  was  the  cry  of  a  pure  love 
finding  utterance,  in  spite  of  all  her  efforts  to  bury  it 
in  her  heart : 


ed  on  the 
ates  with 
omething 

song  of 
rself  and 
5ted,  cry- 
means  ; 

its  *My 
sst  chord 
le  sweet 
g  young 


I's  buff, 


%t 


"  For  thee,  dear  heart,  these  flowers  I  twine. 

My  Blaise,  accept  of  thy  Babette 
The  warm  rose  and  the  orange-flower, 

And  jessamine  and  violet. 
Be  not  thy  passion  like  the  bloom, 

That  shines  a  day  and  disappears. 
My  love  is  an  undying  light, 

And  will  not  change  for  time  or  tears. 

"  Dear,  be  not  like  the  butterfly 

That  knows  each  blossom  in  the  glade?? 
And  cheapen  not  thy  sighs  and  vows 

Among  the  laughing  village  maids. 
Such  loves  are  but  the  transient  bloom 

That  shines  a  day  and  disappears. 
My  love  is  an  undying  light, 

And  will  not  change  for  time  or  i^ears. 

"  If  I  should  find  my  beauty  fade. 

If  I  must  watch  these  oharn.s  depart, 
Dear,  see  thou  but  my  tenderness — 
Oh,  look  thou  only  on  my  heart  I 


!i!l  1 


.illiii! 

'i! 


264  THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD, 

Remember  how  the  transient  bloom 

Shines  for  a  day       J  disappears. 
My  love  is  an  undying  light, 

And  will  not  change  for  time  or  tears." 

Every  one  was  moved  by  her  touching  pathos,  of 
which  they  could  not  guess  the  true  cause.  They  at- 
tributed it,  lamely  enough,  to  her  emotion  on  seeing 
Jules  thus  brought  back  to  the  bosom  of  his  family.  To 
divert  their  attention,  Jules  hastened  to  say : 

"  But  it's  myself  that  has  brought  the  pretty  song 
with  me  from  France." 

"  Let  us  have  your  pretty  song,"  arose  the  cry  on  all 
sides. 

"  No,"  said  Jules,  "  I  am  keeping  it  for  Mademoi- 
selle Vincelot,  to  whom  I  wish  to  teach  it." 

Now  the  young  la<W  in  question  had  for  some  years 
been  declaring  herseli  very  hostile  to  the  idea  of  mar- 
riage ;  indeed,  she  had  avowed  a  pronounced  preference 
for  celibacy.  But  Jules  knew  that  a  certain  widower, 
not  waiting  quite  so  long  as  decorum  required,  had  over- 
come the  strange  repugnance  of  this  tigress  of  chastity, 
and  had  even  prevailed  upon  her  to  name  the  day.  This 
declared  opponent  of  marriage  was  in  no  hurry  to  thank 
Jules,  whose  malicious  waggery  she  knew  too  well ;  but 
every  one  cried  persistently  :  "  The  song !  Give  us  the 
song,  and  you  can  teach  it  to  Elise  at  your  leisure." 

**  As  you  will,"  said  Jules.  "  It  is  very  short,  but  is 
not  wanting  in  spice  : 

*'  A  maiden  is  a  bird 
That  seems  to  love  the  cage, 
Enamored  of  the  nest 
That  nursed  her  tender  age  ; 
But  leave  the  window  wide 
And,  presto  !  she's  outside 
And  off  on  eager  wing  ,    - 

To  mate  and  sing."  '^^ 


THE  FAMILY  HEARTH, 


265 


athos,  of 
They  at- 
n  seeing 
[)ily.    To 

.'tty  song 

:ry  on  all 

lademoi- 

me  years 
L  of  mar- 
reference 
widower, 
lud  over- 
chastity, 
ly.  This 
to  thank 
veil ;  but 
ve  us  the 
Lire." 
rt,  but  is 


They  chaffed  Eliso  a  good  deal,  who,  like  all  prudes, 
took  their  pleasantries  with  rather  a  bad  grace,  seeing 
which,  Madame  d'Haberville  gave  the  signal,  and  the 
company  arose  and  went  into  the  drawing-room.  Klise, 
as  she  was  passing  Jules,  gave  him  a  pinch  that  nearly 
brought  the  blood. 

**ComL,  my  fair  one,  whose  claws  are  so  sharp,"  ex- 
claimed Jules,  **  is  this  such  a  caress  as  you  destined  for 
your  future  spouse,  this  which  you  are  now  bestowing 
on  one  of  your  best  friends }  Happy  spouse  !  May 
Heaven  keep  much  joy  for  him  at  the  last !  " 

After  the  coffee  and  the  customary  pottsse-ca/i'  the 
company  went  out  into  the  court-yard  to  dance  country 
dances  and  to  play  fox  and  geese  and  my  lady's  toilet. 
Nothing  could  be  more  picturesque  than  this  latter 
game,  played  in  the  open  air  in  a  yard  studded  w'th 
trees.  The  players  took  their  places  each  under  a  tree. 
One  only  remained  in  the  open.  Each  furnished  his 
or  her  contribution  to  my  lady's  toilet — one  being  her 
dress,  another  her  necklace,  another  her  ring,  and  so 
forth.  It  was  the  office  of  one  of  the  players  to  direct 
the  game.  As  soon  as  he  called  for  one  of  these  articles 
the  one  representing  this  article  was  obliged  at  once  to 
ler  i  his  post,  which  was  promptly  taken  possession  of 
t.)y  another.  Then,  as  the  different  articles  of  my  lady's 
toilet  were  called  for  rapidly,  a  lively  interchange  of  po- 
sitions was  set  up  between  the  players,  the  one  left  out 
In  the  first  place  striving  to  capture  any  post  that  might 
be  left  for  an  instant  vacant.  This  merry  game  was 
continued  until  my  lady  considered  her  toilet  complete. 
Then,  on  the  cry,  '*  My  lady  wants  all  her  toilet,"  all  the 
players  change  places  with  alacrity,  and  the  one  who 
was  left  out  had  to  pay  a  forfeit.  It  is  not  to  be  sup- 
posed that  this  game  was  conducted  without  a  vast  deal 
of  laughter  and  clamor  and  ludicrous  mishaps. 


266 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


Hi  I 


When  the  ladies  vere  tired  the  party  went  into  the 
house  to  amuse  themselves  less  vigorously  with  such 
games  as  "  does  the  company  please  you,"  or  "  hide  the 
ring,"  "shepherdess,"  or  "hide  and  seek,"  or  "hot 
cockles,"  etc.  They  ended  up  with  a  game  proposed 
by  Jules,  which  was  ordinarily  productive  of  much 
laughter. 

The  early  Canadians,  though  redoubtable  warriors 
on  the  battle-field,  were  thorough  children  in  their  social 
gatherings.  Being  nearly  all  kinsfolk  or  friends  of  long 
standing,  many  of  their  games  which  in  these  days  might 
be  regarded  in  the  best  circles  as  overfamiliar  were 
robbed  of  the  objectionable  element.  The  stranger 
would  have  said  that  they  were  a  lot  of  brothers  and 
sisters  letting  their  spirits  have  free  play  within  the  pri- 
vacy of  the  family. 

It  was  not  without  deliberate  purpose  that  Jules, 
who  still  felt  the  pinch  Elise  had  given  him,  proposed  a 
game  by  which  he  hoped  to  get  his  revenge.  This  is 
the  game  :  A  lady  seated  in  an  arm-chair  begins  by 
choosing  some  one  as  her  daughter.  Her  eyes  are  then 
blindfolded,  and,  by  merely  feeling  the  faces  of  the 
players,  who  kneel  before  her  one  by  one,  with  their 
heads  enveloped  in  a  shawl  or  scarf,  she  is  required  to 
pick  out  her  daughter.  Every  time  she  makes  a  mistake 
she  has  to  pay  a  forfeit.  It  is  often  a  man  or  an  old 
woman  who  kneels  before  her  thus  disguised,  whence 
arises  many  a  laughable  mistake. 

When  it  came  the  turn  of  Elise  to  take  the  arm-chair, 
she  did  not  fail  to  select  Jules  for  her  daughter,  with  the 
purpose  of  tormenting  him  a  little  during  the  inspection. 
As  each  person  knelt  at  the  feet  of  the  blindfolded  lady, 

all  the  others  sang  in  chorus  : 

.....  .  ^  .'  ►, .' ,.   ^ , 

"Oh,  lady,  say,  is  this  your  daughter? 
Oh,  lady,  say,  is  this  your  daughter?         ;i     /• '.' 


THE  FAMILY  HEARTH. 


267 


into  the 
n\k\.  such 
'  hide  the 

or  "hot 
proposed 
of   much 

warriors 
leir  social 
s  of  long 
lys  might 
liar  were 

stranger 
hers  and 
[1  the  pri- 

at  Jules, 
Dposed  a 

This  is 
egins  by 
are  then 
s  of  the 
ith  their 
uired  to 
I  mistake 

an  old 
,  whence 


In  buckles  of  gold  and  rings  galore, 
The  watermen  bold  are  at  the  oar." 

The  blindfolded  lady  responds  in  the  same  fashion : 
"  Oh,  yes,  it  is,  it  is  my  daughter,  etc." 

Or  else : 

"  Oh,  no,  it  is  not,  it  is  not  my  daughter ; 
Oh,  no,  it  is  not,  it  is  not  my  daughter. 
In  buckles  of  gold  and  rings  galore. 
The  watermen  bold  are  at  the  oar." 

After  having  inspected  several  heads,  Elise,  hearing 
under  the  shawl  the  stifled  laughter  of  Jules,  imagined 
she  had  grasped  her  prey.  She  feels  his  head.  It  is 
not  unlike  that  of  Jules.  The  face,  indeed,  seems  a 
trifle  long,  but  this  rascally  Jules  has  so  many  tricks  for 
disguising  himself !  Did  he  not  mystify  the  company 
for  a  whole  evening,  having  been  introduced  as  an  old 
aunt  just  arrived  that  very  day  from  France  ?  Under 
this  disguise,  did  he  not  have  the  audacity  to  kiss  all  the 
pretty  women  in  the  room,  including  Elise  herself  ?  The 
wretch !  Yes,  Jules  is  capable  of  anything !  Under 
this  impression  she  pinches  an  ear.  There  is  a  cry  of 
pain  and  a  low  growl,  followed  by  a  loud  barking.  She 
snatches  the  bandage  from  her  eyes,  to  find  herself  con- 
fronted with  two  rows  of  threatening  teeth.  It  was 
Niger.  Just  as  at  the  house  of  Farmer  Dinmont,  of 
whom  Scott  tell  us,  all  the  dogs  were  named  Pepper,  so 
at  the  D'Haberville  mansion  all  the  dogs  were  called 
Niger  or  Nigra,  in  memory  of  their  ancestor,  whom  the 
little  Jules  had  named  to  show  his  progress  in  Latin. 

Elise  at  once  snatched  off  her  high-heeled  shoe,  and 
made  an  attack  on  Jules.  The  latter  held  poor  Niger 
as  a  shield,  and  ran  from  room  to  room,  the  girl  follow- 
ing him  hotly  amid  roars  of  laughter. 

Oh,  happy  time  when  lightness  c  f  heart  made  wit 


268 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


unnecessary  !  Oh,  happy  time  when  the  warmth  of  wel- 
come made  superfluous  the  Uixury  which  these  ruined 
Canadians  were  learning  to  do  without  !  The  houses, 
like  the  hearts  of  their  owners,  seemed  able  to  enlarge 
themselves  to  meet  every  possible  demand  of  hospital- 
ity ?  Sleeping-places  were  improvised  upon  the  slight- 
est occasion  ;  and  when  once  the  ladies  were  comfort- 
ably provided  for  the  sterner  sex  found  no  difficulty  in 
shifting  for  themselves.  These  men,  who  had  passed 
half  their  life  in  camp  during  the  harshest  seasons ;  who 
had  journeyed  four  or  five  leagues  on  snow-shoes,  rest- 
ing by  night  in  holes  which  they  dug  in  the  snow  (as 
they  did  when  they  went  to  attack  the  English  in  Aca- 
dia), these  men  of  iron  could  do  without  swan's-down 
coverlets  to  their  couches. 

The  merry-making  paused  only  for  sleep,  and  was  re- 
newed in  all  its  vigor  in  the  morning.  As  every  one  then 
wore  powder,  the  more  skillful  would  undertake  the  rdle 
of  hairdresser,  or  even  of  barber.  The  subject,  arrayed 
in  an  ample  dressing-gown,  seated  himself  gravely  in 
a  chair.  The  impromptu  hairdresser  rarely  failed  to 
heighten  the  effect  of  his  achievement,  either  by  tracing 
with  the  powder  puff  an  immense  pair  of  whiskers  on 
those  who  lacked  such  adornment,  or,  in  the  case  of 
those  who  were  already  provided.,  by  making  one  side  a 
great  ueal  longer  than  the  other.  The  victim  frequently 
was  made  aware  of  his  plight  only  by  the  peals  of 
laughter  which  greeted  him  on  entering  the  drawing- 
room. 

The  party  broke  up  at  the  end  of  three  days,  in  spite 
of  the  efforts  of  M.  and  Madame  d'Haberville  to  keep 
them  longer.  Archie  alone,  who  had  promised  to  spend 
a  month  with  his  old  friends,  kept  hi^j  word  and  re- 
mained. 


nth  of  wel- 
lese  ruined 
'he  houses, 
;  to  enlarge 
Df  hospital- 
the  slight- 
re  comfort- 
iifficulty  in 
dad  passed 
isons ;  who 
shoes,  rest- 
e  snow  (as 
ish  in  Aca- 
van's-down 

md  was  re- 

ry  one  then 

ike  the  rdle 

ct,  arrayed 

gravely  in 

failed  to 

by  tracing 

liskers  on 

case  of 

one  side  a 

frequently 

peals  of 

drawing- 

rs,  in  spite 

|e  to  keep 

to  spend 

and  re- 


le 


S 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 


CONCLUSION. 


Ainsi  passe  sur  la  terre  tout  ce  qui  fut  bon,  vertueux,  sensibit! 
Homme,  tu  n'es  qu'un  songe  rapide,  un  reve  douloureux  ;  tu  n'existes  que 
par  le  malheur ;  tu  n'es  quelque  chose  que  par  la  tristesse  de  ton  dme  et 
Veternelle  melancolie  de  ta  pensee  ! — Chateaubriand. 

After  the  departure  of  the  guests  the  family  fell 
back  into  the  sweet  intimacy  of  former  days.  Jules, 
whom  his  native  air  had  restored  to  health,  passed  the 
greater  part  of  the  day  in  hunting  with  Archie.  The 
abundance  of  game  at  that  season  made  the  pastime 
very  agreeable.  They  took  supper  at  seven,  they  went 
to  bed  at  ten,  and  the  evenings  seemed  all  too  short 
even  without  the  help  of  cards.  Jules,  who  was  igno- 
rant of  what  had  passed  between  his  sister  and  Archie, 
could  not  but  be  struck  with  his  friend's  unusual  sad- 
ness, of  which,  however,  he  failed  to  guess  the  cause. 
To  all  questions  on  the  subject  he  received  an  evasive 
answer.  Finally,  imagining  that  he  had  found  tile  root 
of  the  difficulty,  one  evening  when  they  were  alone  to- 
gether he  put  the  question  directly. 

"I  have  noticed,  my  brother,"  said  he,  "the  sadness 
which  you  endeavor  to  conceal  from  us.  You  are  un- 
just to  us,  Archie,  you  do  yourself  an  injustice.  You 
should  not  brood  over  the  past.  In  saving  the  lives 
which  would  otherwise  have  been  lost  in  the  shipwreck 
of  the  Auguste,  you  have  v^  jne  my  family  a  service  which 


270 


THE   CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


more  than  compensates  for  what  took  place  before.  It 
is  we  now  who  owe  you  a  debt  of  gratitude  which  can 
never  be  repaid.  It  was  very  natural  that,  prejudiced 
by  report  and  for  the  moment  forgetful  of  your  noble 
heart,  even  such  friends  as  we,  imbittered  by  our  losses, 
should  lend  an  ear  to  calumnies  against  you;  but  you 
know  that  a  simple  explanation  was  enough  to  re-cement 
our  old  friendship.  If  my  father  bore  his  grudge  for  a 
long  time,  you  know  his  nature  and  must  make  allow 
ance  for  it.  He  feels  now  all  his  old  affection  for  you. 
Our  losses  have  been  in  great  part  repaired,  and  we  live 
more  tranquilly  under  the  British  Government  than  we 
did  under  the  rule  of  France.  Our  habitants  have  fol- 
lowed the  example  of  Cincinnatus,  as  Uncle  Raoul 
would  say,  and  exchanged  the  musket  for  the  plow- 
share. They  are  opening  up  new  land,  and  in  a  few 
years  this  seigneurie  will  be  in  a  most  prosperous  condi- 
tion. With  the  help  of  the  little  legacy  which  I  lately 
received,  we  shall  soon  be  as  rich  as  we  were  before  the 
conquest.  Therefore,  my  dear  Archie,  drive  away  this 
gloom  which  is  making  us  all  miserable  and  resume  thy 
former  lightheartedness. 

Lochiel  was  silent  for  some  time,  and  only  answered 
after  a  painful  effort. 

"  Impossible,  my  brother.  The  wound  is  more  re- 
cent than  you  imagine  and  will  bleed  all  rny  life,  for  all 
my  hopes  are  destroyed.  But  let  us  leave  the  subject ; 
for  I  have  already  been  wounded  in  my  tenderest  and 
purest  emotions,  and  an  unsympathetic  word  from  you 
would  finish  me." 

"  An  unsympathetic  word  from  my  lips,  do  you  say, 
Archie }  What  can  you  mean  by  that  ?  The  friend 
whom  I  have  sometimes  vexed  with  my  raillery  knows 
very  well  what  my  heart  is  toward  him,  and  that  I  was 
always  ready  to  crave  his  pardon.    You   shake   your 


CONCLUSION, 


271 


before.  It 
which  can 
prejudiced 
your  noble 
our  losses, 
1;  but  you 
>  re-cement 
udge  for  a 
lake  allow 
n  for  you. 
ind  we  live 
[It  than  we 
f  have  fol- 
icle  Raoul 
the  plow- 
i  in  a  few 
ous  condi- 
:h  I  lately 
before  the 
away  this 
esume  thy 

answered 

more  re- 
ife,  for  all 

subject ; 
erest  and 
from  you 

you  say, 
le  friend 
ry  knows 
lat  I  was 
ike  your 


head  sadly  !  Great  heaven,  what  is  the  matter  ?  What 
is  there  that  you  can  not  confide  to  your  brother,  the 
friend  of  your  boyhood  ?  Never  hjive  I  had  anything 
to  conceal  from  you.  My  thoughts  were  as  open  to  you 
as  your  own,  and  I  had  imagined  that  you  were  as 
frank  with  me.  A  curse  upon  whatever  has  been  able 
to  come  between  us  !  " 

"  Stop,  Jules,  stop,"  cried  Archie.  "  However  painful 
my  confidences  may  be  to  you,  I  must  tell  you  all  rather 
than  let  you  harbor  such  a  cruel  suspicion.  I  am  going 
to  open  my  heart  to  you,  but  on  the  express  condition 
that  you  shall  hear  me  uninterruptedly  to  the  end,  as  an 
impartial  judge.  Not  till  to-morrow  will  we  return  to 
this  sore  subject.  Meanwhile,  promise  to  keep  the 
secret  that  I  am  going  to  confide  to  you." 

"  I  give  you  my  word,"  raid  Jules,  grasping  his  hand. 

Thereupon  Lochiel  recounted  minutely  the  conver- 
sation that  he  had  had  with  Blanche.  As  soon  as  he 
came  to  an  end  he  lit  a  candle  and  withdrew  to  his  own 
room. 

As  for  Jules,  he  stormed  within  himself  all  night. 
Having  studied  women  only  in  the  salons  of  St.  Ger- 
main, his  vigorous  common  sense  could  ill  appreciate 
the  sublimity  that  there  was  in  the  sacrifice  which  his 
sister  was  imposing  upon  herself.  Such  sentiments 
appeared  to  him  mere  romantic  and  exaggerated  non- 
sense, or  the  product  of  an  imagination  rendered  mor- 
bid by  calamity.  With  his  heart  set  upon  an  alliance 
which  would  gratify  his  dearest  wishes,  he  resolved  that, 
with  the  consent  of  Archie,  he  would  have  a  very  seri- 
ous conversation  with  Blanche,  from  which  he  felt  con- 
fident he  would  come  off  victorious.  "  She  loves  him," 
thought  he,  "  and  therefore  my  cause  is  already  gained." 

Man,  with  all  his  apparent  superiority,  with  all  his 
self-confident  vanity,  has  never  yet  sounded  the  depths 


272 


THE   CANADIANS  OF  OLD, 


ill 


m 


.:!'!!'■  i 


of  the  feminine  heart,  that  inexhaustible  treasure-house 
of  love,  devotion,  and  self-sacrifice.  The  poets  have 
sung  in  every  key  this  being  who  came  all  beauty  from 
the  hands  of  her  Creator ;  but  what  is  all  this  physical 
beauty  compared  to  the  spiritual  beauty  of  a  noble  and 
high-souled  woman  ?  Indeed,  who  is  more  miserable 
than  man  in  the  face  of  adversity,  when,  poor  pygmy, 
he  leans  on  the  fortitude  of  a  woman,  who  bears  the 
burden  uncomplainingly.  It  is  not  surprising  then 
that  Jules,  knowing  woman  only  on  the  surface,  ex- 
pected an  easy  triumph  over  his  sister's  scruples. 

**Come,  Blanche,"  said  Jules  to  his  sister,  the  next 
clay,  after  dinner,  "  there's  our  Scottish  Nimrod  setting 
out  with  his  gun  to  get  some  birds  for  our  supper. 
Let's  you  and  I  see  if  we  can  scale  the  bluff  as  nimbly 
as  we  used  to." 

"With  all  my  heart,"  answered  Blanche.  "You 
shall  see  that  my  Canadian  legs  have  lost  none  of  their 
agility." 

The  brother  and  sister,  assisting  themselves  by  the 
projecting  rocks,  and  by  the  shrubs  which  clung  in  the 
crevices  of  the  cliff,  speedily  scaled  the  difficult  path 
that  led  to  the  summit.  After  gazing  in  silence  for  a 
time  at  the  magnificent  panorama  unrolled  before  them, 
Jules  said  to  his  sister : 

"  I  had  an  object  in  bringing  you  here.  I  wanted 
to  talk  to  you  on  a  subject  of  the  greatest  importance. 
You  love  our  friend  Archie ;  you  have  loved  him  for  a 
long  time  ;  yet  for  reasons  that  I  can  not  comprehend, 
for  over-exalted  sentiments  which  warp  your  judgment, 
you  are  imposing  upon  yourself  an  unnatural  sacrifice 
and  preparing  for  yourself  a  future  of  wretchedness.  As 
for  me,  if  I  loved  an  English  girl,  and  she  returned  my 
affection,  I  would  marry  her  jii  •'  :?^  readily  as  if  she 
were  one  of  my  own  countrywomen. 


CONCLUSION, 


273 


Lire-house 
Dets  have 
luty  from 
5  physical 
loble  and 
miserable 

•r  pygmy, 
bears  the 
sing  then 
rface,  ex- 
es. 

,  the  next 
od  setting 
r  supper, 
as  nimbly 

e.  "  You 
e  of  their 

es  by  the 

jng  in  the 

icult  path 

nee  for  a 

ore  them, 

I  wanted 
iportance. 

him  for  a 
nprehend, 
judgment, 
d  sacrifice 
Iness.  As 
;urned  my 

as  if  she 


Blanche's  eyes  filled  with  tears.  Taking  hei  broth- 
er's hand  affectionately,  she  answered  ; 

"  If  you  were  to  marry  an  English  girl,  my  dear  Jules, 
I  should  take  her  to  my  heart  as  a  sister;  but  that  which 
you  could  do  without  incurring  any  reproach,  would  be 
cowardice  on  v^y  i>art.  Nobly  have  you  paid  your 
debt  to  your  country.  Your  voice  has  nerved  your 
soldiers  through  the  most  terrible  conflicts.  Twice  has 
your  bleeding  body  been  dragged  from  our  battle-fields, 
and  three  times  have  you  been  wounded  in  Old  World 
struggles.  Yes,  my  beloved  brother,  you  have  fulfilled 
all  your  duty  to  your  country,  and  you  can  afford  to  in- 
dulge, if  you  wish,  the  whim  of  taking  a  daughter  of 
England  to  wife.  But  I.  a  weak  woman,  what  have  I 
done  for  this  enslaved  and  now  silent  land,  this  land 
which  has  rung  so  often  of  old  with  the  triumphant 
voices  of  my  countrymen  ?  Shall  a  daughter  of  the 
D'Habervilles  be  the  first  to  set  the  example  of  a  double 
yoke  to  the  daughters  of  Canada  ?  It  is  natural  and 
even  desirable  that  the  Irench  and  English  in  Canada, 
having  now  one  country  and  the  same  laws,  should  for- 
get their  ancient  hostility  and  enter  into  the  most  inti- 
mate relationships  ;  but  I  am  not  the  one  to  set  the  ex- 
ample. They  would  say,  as  I  told  Archie,  that  the 
proud  Briton,  after  having  vanquished  and  ruined  the 
fat^  ^r,  had  purchased  with  his  gold  the  poor  Canadian 
girl  !  Never,  never  shall  it  be  si  id !  "  And  the  girl 
wept  bitterly  on  her  brother's  s!'-.ulder. 

"No  one  will  know  of  it,"  she  continued,  "and 
you  yourself  will  never  realize  the  full  extent  of  the 
sacrifice  I  am  making,  but  iear  njt,  Juies,  I  have  the 
strength  for  it.  Proud  of  the  sentiments  by  which  I  have 
been  inspired,  J.  shall  pass  my  days  serenely  in  the  bosom 
of  my  family.  Of  this  be  sure,"  she  continued  in  a  voice 
Ihat  thrilled  with  exauation.  "  that  she  who  has  loved 
z8 


274 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD, 


the  noble  Cameron  of  Lochiel  will  i  ver  soil  her  bosom 
with  another  earthly  love.  You  m;  le  a  mistake  in  se- 
lecting this  spot,  Jules,  wherein  to  talk  to  me  on  such  a 
subject — this  sj  it  whence  I  have  so  often  gazed  proudly 
on  the  mansion  of  my  fathers,  which  is  now  replaced 
by  yonder  poor  dwelling.  Let  us  go  down  now,  and  if 
you  love  me  never  mention  this  painful  subject  again." 

**  Noble  soul !  "  cried  Jules,  and  he  held  her  sobbing 
in  his  arms. 

Archie,  having  lost  all  hope  of  wedding  Blanche 
d'Habervilk',  set  himself  to  repaying  the  debt  of  grati- 
tude which  he  owed  Dumais.  The  refusal  of  Blanche 
changed  his  first  intentions  and  left  him  more  latitude ; 
for  he  now  resolved  upon  a  life  of  celibacy.  Archie, 
whom  misfortune  had  brought  to  an  early  maturity,  had 
studied  men  and  things  with  great  coolness  of  judg- 
ment ;  and  he  had  come  to  the  wise  conclusion  that 
marriage  is  rarely  a  success  unless  based  on  mutual  love. 
Unlike  most  young  men,  Lochiel  was  genuinely  modest. 
Though  endowed  with  remarkable  beauty,  and  with  all 
those  qualities  which  go  to  captivate  women,  he  never- 
theless remained  always  simple  and  unassuming  in  his 
manner.  He  further  believed,  with  Moliere's  Toinette, 
that  the  pretense  of  love  often  bears  a  very  close  resem- 
blance to  the  reality.  "  When  I  was  poor  and  in  exile," 
thought  he,  "  I  was  loved  for  my  own  sake ;  now  that  I 
am  rich,  who  knows  that  another  woman  would  love  in 
me  anything  but  my  wealth  and  my  rank,  even  suppos- 
ing that  I  should  succeed  in  banishing  from  my  heart 
my  first  and  only  love."  Archie  decided  then  that  ha 
would  never  marry. 

The  sun  was  disappearing  behind  the  Laurentian 
hills,  when  Lochiel  arrived  at  the  farm  of  Dumais.  The 
order  and  prosperity  which  reigned  there  gave  him  an 
agreeable  surprise.     The  good  wife,  busy  in  her  dairy, 


coxcLusioy. 


275 


Blanche 
of  grati- 
Blanche 
latitude ; 
Archie, 
irity,  had 
of  judg- 
sion  that 
tual  love. 
{  modest. 
1  with  all 
le  never- 
ng  in  his 
Toinette, 
se  resem- 
in  exile, 
ow  that  I 
d  love  in 
n  suppos- 
my  heart 
1  that  he 

aurentian 
lais.  The 
^e  him  an 
her  dairy, 


► 


where  a  fat  servant  girl  v/as  helping  her,  came  forward 
to  meet  him  without  recognizing  him,  and  invited  him 
to  enter  the  house. 

"  This  is  the  house  of  Sergeant  Dumais,  I  believe," 
said  Archie. 

"  Yes,  sir,  and  I  am  his  wife.  My  husband  should 
be  back  presently  from  the  fields  with  a  load  of  grain. 
I  will  send  one  of  the  children  to  hurry  him  tii>." 

**  There  is  no  hurry,  madam.  I  have  called  to  give 
you  news  of  a  certain  Mr.  Archie  de  Lochiel,  whom  you 
once  knew.     Perhaps  you  have  forgotten  him." 

Madame  Dumais  came  nearer.  After  studying  his 
face  intently  for  some  moments,  she  said  : 

"  There  is  certainly  a  rv'^semblance.  Doubtless  you 
are  one  of  his  kinsfolk.  Forget  Mr.  Archie !  He  could 
never  think  us  capable  of  such  ingratitude.  Do  you 
not  know,  then,  that  he  faced  almost  certain  death  to 
save  my  husband's  life,  and  that  we  pray  to  God  every 
day  that  he  will  b.ess  our  benefactor?  Forget  Mr. 
Archie!     You  grieve  me,  sir." 

Lochiel  was  much  moved.  Lifting  into  his  lap  the 
little  seven-year-old  Louise,  Dumais's  youngest  child, 
he  said  to  her : 

"  And  you,  my  little  one,  do  you  know  Mr.  Archie  ?" 

"I  have  never  seen  him,"  said  the  child,  "but  we 
pray  for  him  every  day." 

'*  What  do  you  pray  } "  asked  Archie. 

"  O  God,  bless  Mr.  Archie,  who  saved  papa's  life,  as 
long  as  he  lives ;  and,  when  he  dies,  take  him  to  your 
holy  paradise." 

Lochiel  continued  to  chat  with  Madame  Dumais  till 
the  latter  heard  her  husband's  voice  at  the  barn.  She 
ran  to  tell  him  that  there  was  11  stranger  in  the  house 
with  news  from  Mr.  Archie.  Dumais  was  preparing  to 
pitch  off  his  load,  but  he  threw  down  the  fork   and 


276 


THE   CANADIANS  OF  OLD, 


rushed  into  the  house.  It  was  by  this  time  too  dark  for 
him  to  make  out  the  stranger's  face. 

"  You  are  indeed  welcome,"  said  he,  "  coming  with 
news  from  one  so  dear  to  us." 

"You  are — Sergeant  Dumais  ?  "  inquired  Archie. 

**  You  are  Mr.  Archie  !  "  cried  Dumais,  clasping  him 
in  liis  arms.  "Do  you  think  I  could  forget  the  voice 
that  cried  to  me  *  (>ourage !  *  when  I  w,'>'^  hanging  on  the 
brink  of  ihe  abyss — the  voice  I  heard  so  often  in  my 
sickness  ?  " 

Toward  the  end  of  the  evening  Archie  said  : 

"  My  dear  Dumais,  I  am  come  to  ask  a  great 
favor." 

"  A  favor  !  "  exclaimed  Dumais.  "  Could  I,  a  poor 
farmer,  be  so  fortunate  as  to  do  you  a  favor  ?  It  would 
be  the  happiest  day  of  my  life." 

**  Well,  Dumais,  it  depends  upon  you  to  restore  me 
to  health.  Though  I  may  not  look  it,  I  am  sick,  more 
sick  than  you  could  imagine." 

"Indeed,"  said  Dumais,  "you  are  pale^  and  sadder 
than  of  old.     Good  heaven  !     What  is  the  matter.? " 

"  Have  you  ever  heard  of  a  malady  to  which  the 
English  are  very  subject,  and  which  they  call  the  spleen, 
or  blue  devils  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Dumais.  "  I  have  known  several  of  your 
English  who,  if  I  may  say  it  without  offense,  seemed  to 
have  the  devil  in  them  ;  lut  I  had  imagined  that  these 
devils  were  of  a  darker  hue." 

Ar(  hie  began  to  laugh. 

"  What  we,  my  dear  Dumais,  call  the  blue  devils  is 
known  among  you  Canadians  as  ''peine  d' esprit.''  *' 

"  I  understand  now,"  said  Dumais,  "  but  what  aston- 
ishes me  is  that  a  man  like  you,  with  everything  heart 
.could  wish,  should  he  amusing  himself  with  blue  devils." 
dew  l)\^mm»/'  fMf\^^^  Archie,  "  I  mi^ht  answer 


« 


CONCLUSION, 


277 


3  dark  for 

ming  wiih 

Tcliic. 
sping  him 
the  voice 
ng  on  the 
"ten  in  my 

1: 

c   a    great 

I,  a  poor 
It  would 

restore  me 
sick,  more 

nd  sadder 
tter?" 
which  the 
he  spleen, 

ral  of  your 
seemed  to 
that  these 


;  devils  is 

hat  aston- 

hing  heart 

ue  devils." 

ht  answer 


that  every  one  in  the  \\orld  has  his  sorrow?,  however 
fortunate  he  may  seem  ;  hut  it  is  enough  now  to  say  that 
tlie  malady  is  upon  me,  and  that  I  count  upon  you  10 
help  me  to  a  cure." 

"  Command  me,  Mr.  Archie  ;  for  I  am  at  your  serv- 
ice day  and  night." 

**  I  have  tried  everything."  continued  Archie.  "I 
have  tried  study,  I  have  tried  lite  rary  work.  I  am  bet- 
ter in  the  day-time,  but  my  nights  are  usually  sleep!  ?.ss, 
and  when  I  do  sleep,  I  wake  up  as  miserable  as  ever. 
I  have  concluded  that  nothing  but  hard  manual  labor 
can  cure  me.  After  toiling  all  day,  I  imagine  that  I  shall 
win  such  a  slumber  as  has  long  been  denied  me." 

"  Very  true,"  said  Dumais.  "  When  a  man  has  la- 
bored all  day  with  his  hands,  I  defy  him  to  suffer  from 
sleeplessness  at  night.  But  how  shall  I  have  the  pleas- 
ure of  helping  you  ?  " 

"  I  expect  you  to  cure  me,  my  dear  Dumais.  But 
listen  while  I  explain  my  plans.  I  am  now  rich,  and 
since  Providen<  e  has  given  me  riches  which  I  had  never 
expected,  1  should  employ  a  portion  of  them  in  doing 
good.  In  this  parish  and  the  neighborhood  there  is  an 
immense  deal  of  land  unoccupied,  eitlier  for  sale  or  to 
be  granted.  My  plan  is  to  take  up  a  Inrge  acreage  of 
such  lands,  and  not  only  superintend  the  clearing,  but 
work  at  it  myself.  You  know  that  I  have  good  armsj 
and  I  will  do  as  much  as  any  of  the  rest," 

**  I  know  it,"  said  Dumais. 

**  There  are  many  poor  fellows,"  continued  Archie, 
"  who  will  be  glad  enough  to  get  work  at  such  good 
wages  as  1  shall  give.  You  understand,  Dumais,  that  I 
shall  have  to  have  some  one  to  help  me.  Moreover, 
what  would  I  do  in  the  eve  ling  and  during  bad  weath- 
er, without  a  friend  to  keep  me  company  ?  It  is  then 
that  my  melancholy  would  kill  me." 


2/8 


THE   CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


Wi 


11 


mL 


k  j:! 


"  Let  us  set  out  to-morrow,"  cried  Dumais,  "  and 
visit  the  best  lots,  which,  for  that  matter,  I  already 
know  pretty  well." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Archie,  grasping  his  hand;  "but 
who  will  take  care  of  your  farm  in  your  frequent 
absences  ?  " 

"  Don't  be  anxious  on  that  score,  sir.  My  wife 
could  manage  very  well  alone,  even  without  her  brother, 
an  old  bachelor,  who  lives  with  us.  My  farm  has  never 
suffered  much  from  my  absence.  I  have  always  pre- 
ferred the  musket  to  the  plow.  My  wife  scolds  me 
occasionally  on  this  subject ;  but  we  are  none  the  worse 
friends  for  that." 

"  Do  you  know,"  said  Archie,  "  that  yonder  by  the 
edge  of  the  river,  near  that  maple  grove,  is  the  most 
charming  situation  for  a  house.  Yours  is  old.  We 
will  build  one  large  enough  for  us  all.  I  will  build  it, 
on  condition  that  I  have  the  right  to  occui)y  half  of  it 
during  my  life ;  and  on  my  death  all  will  belong  to  you. 
I  have  resolved  to  remain  a  bachelor." 

**  Men  like  you,"  said  Dumais,  **  are  altogether  too 
scarce.  It  would  be  wrong  to  let  the  breed  die  out. 
But  I  begin  to  understand  that  you  are  thinking  less 
about  yourself  than  about  me  and  my  family,  and  that 
you  are  seeking  to  make  us  rich." 

"  Let  us  speak  frankly,"  answered  Archie.  "  I  have 
no  true  friends  in  the  world  but  the  D'Haberville  family 
and  yours."  » 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Dumais,  for  classing  us  poor 
farmers  with  that  illustrious  family." 

"  I  only  consider  the  virtues  and  good  qualities  of 
men,"  answered  Lochiel.  "  To  be  sure,  I  love  and  respect 
birth  and  breeding,  which  does  not  prevent  me  from  lov- 
ing and  respecting  all  men  who  are  worthy  of  such  senti- 
ments.    I  want  to  give  you  a.  fourth  part  of  my  fortune." 


'h 


CONCLUSION, 


lis,  "  and 
already 

id;  "but 
frequent 

My  wife 
r  brother, 
has  never 
vays  pre- 
rolds  nrje 
the  worse 

er  by  the 
the  most 
old.  We 
1  build  it, 
'  half  of  it 
[ig  to  you. 

jether  too 

I  die  out. 

iking  less 

and  that 

"  I  have 
ille  family 

ig  us  poor 

ualities  of 
nd  respect 
from  lov- 
juch  senti- 
|r  fortune." 


279 


'. .   "Oh,  sir  !  "  cried  Dumais. 

"  Listen  a  moment,  my  friend,"  continued  Lochid. 
**  When  I  told  you  that  I  was  suffering  from  what  you 
call  ''peine  d'esprit^'  I  was  telling  the  literal  truth.  I 
1  have  found  the  remedy  for  this  trouble.  It  lies  in 
plenty  of  hard  work  and  in  helping  my  friends.  I  am 
going  to  give  you  during  my  life-time  a  quarter  of  my 
fortune.  Look  out  for  yourself,  Dumais !  I  am  obsti- 
nate, like  all  Scotchmen.  If  you  trifle  with  me,  instcr.d 
of  a  quarter,  I  am  as  likely  as  not  to  give  you  a  half. 
But,  to  speak  seriously,  my  dear  Dum.-ii.,  you  would  be 
doing  me  a  very  ill  turn,  indeed,  if  you  should  refuse 


me. 


»> 


"  If  this  is  the  case,  sir,"  said  Dumais,  with  tears  in 
his  eyes,  "  I  accept  your  gift." 

Let  us  leave  Lochiel  busying  himself  in  heaping 
benefits  on  Dumais,  and  let  us  return  to  our  other 
friends. 

'*The  good  gentleman,"  now  almost  a  hundred  years 
old,  lived  but  a  year  after  Jules's  return.  He  died  ^*ax- 
rounded  by  his  friends,  having  been  most  lovingly 
nursed  by  Blan<  he  and  Jules  throughout  tlie  month  of 
his  last  illness.  A  little  while  before  his  death  he  begged 
Jules  to  open  his  bed-room  window,  and,  casting  a  feeble 
glance  toward  the  stream  which  rolled  peacefully  past 
his  door,  he  murmured  : 

**  There  it  is,  my  friend  ;  there's  the  walnut  tree  in 
whose  shadow  I  told  you  the  story  of  my  misfortunes  ; 
it  was  there  I  counseled  you  from  my  own  experience. 
I  die  content,  for  I  see  that  you  have  profited  by  my 
words.  When  I  am  gone,  take  this  little  candlestick. 
It  will  remind  you  of  the  vigils  it  has  witnessed  and  of 
the  advice  which  I  have  given  you. 

**  As  for  you,  my  dear  and  faithful  Andr^,"  exclaimed 
M.  d'Egmont,  "it  grieves  me  to  leave  you  alone  in  this 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


/- 


(A 


1.0 


I.I 


1.25 


1^ 


2.0 


1.8 


1.4 


1.6 


V] 


<^ 


/2 


/a 


o^^j 


y 


J 


Photographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  M580 

(716)  •72-4503 


'°:;i^^^ 


o^ 


28o 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD, 


world  where  you  have  shared  my  sorrows.  You  have 
promised  me  to  pass  the  rest  of  your  days  with  the 
D'Habervilles,  who  will  care  for  your  old  age  tenderly. 
You  know  that  after  your  death  the  poor  are  to  be  our 
heirs." 

"My  dear  master,"  said  Francoeur,  sobbing,  "the 
poor  will  not  have  long  to  wait  for  their  inheritance." 

Having  bid  farewell  to  all  his  friends,  **  the  good  gen- 
tleman "  asked  the  priest  to  say  the  prayers  for  the  dying. 
Just  at  the  words,  ''^  Partez  dme  Chritienne^  au  nom  du 
Dieu  tout-puissant  qui  vous  a  crid,'  he  breathed  his  last. 
Sterne  would  have  said  : 

"  The  recording  angel  of  the  court  of  heaven  shed  a 
tear  upon  the  follies  of  his  youth,  and  blotted  them  out 
forever."  The  angels  are  more  compassionate  than 
men,  who  neither  forget  nor  forgive  the  faults  of 
others ! 

Andr^  Francoeur  was  struck  with  paralysis  on  the 
day  of  his  master's  burial,  and  survived  him  but  three 
weeks. 
.4  •  •  *  •  •  •       '      » 

When  Jules  had  said  to  his  sister :  "  If  I  loved  an 
English  girl  and  she  would  have  me,  I  would  marry  her 
as  readily  as  one  of  my  own  countrywomen,"  Blanche 
had  been  far  from  suspecting  her  brother's  real  inten- 
tions. The  truth  was  that  Jules,  on  his  voyage  across 
the  Atlantic,  had  made  the  acquaintance  of  a  young 
English  girl  of  great  beauty.  A  second  Saint-Preux, 
Jules  had  given  her  lessons  in  something  more  than 
French  grammar  during  a  passage  that  lasted  two  months. 
He  had  shown  excellent  taste.  The  young  girl,  in  addi- 
tion to  her  beauty,  possessed  the  qualities  to  inspire  a 
true  passion. 

All  obstacles  being  at  length  overcome,  and  the  con- 
sent of  both  fLrailies  obtained,  in  the  following  year 


CONCLUSION. 


281 


You  have 
with  the 
tenderly, 
to  be  our 

ing,  "the 
itance." 
good  gen- 
the  dying. 
u  mm  du 
1  his  last. 

en  shed  a 
them  out 

late  than 
faults  of 

is  on  the 
but  three 


loved  an 
marry  her 
"  Blanche 
eal  inten- 
Lge  across 

a  young 
Int-Preux, 
nore  than 
o  months. 
1,  in  addi- 
inspire  a 

i  the  con- 
tving  year 


Jules  married  the  fair  daughter  of  Albion,  who  soon  won 
the  hearts  of  all  about  her. 

Uncle  Raoul,  always  bitter  against  the  English  on 
account  of  the  leg  which  he  had  lost  in  Acadie,  but  1;oo 
well  bred  to  fail  in  the  proprieties,  used  at  first  to  shut 
himself  up  whenever  he  wanted  to  swear  comfortably  at 
the  compatriots  of  his  lovely  niece  ;  but  by  the  end  of  a 
month  she  had  entirely  captivated  him,  whereupon  he 
suddenly  suppressed  his  oaths,  to  the  great  benefit  of  his 
soul  and  of  the  pious  ears  which  he  had  scandalized. 

"  That  rascal  of  a  Jules,"  said  Uncle  Raoul,  "  showed 
very  good  taste  in  wedding  this  young  English  woman. 
His  Holiness  the  Pope  of  old  was  quite  right  when  he 
said  that  these  young  islanders  would  be  angels  if  only 
they  were  Christians ;  noft  augli^  sed  angeli  fuissent^  si 
essent  Christiani.'* 

It  was  another  thing  when  the  dear  uncle,  trotting  a 
little  nephew  on  one  knee  and  a  little  niece  on  the  other, 
used  to  sing  them  the  songs  of  the  Canadian  voyageurs. 
How  proud  he  was  when  their  mother  used  to  cry  : 

"  For  pity  sake,  come  to  my  help,  dear  uncle,  for  the 
little  demons  won't  go  to  sleep  without  you." 

Uncle  Raoul  had  charged  himself  with  the  military 
education  of  his  nephew.  Therefore,  before  he  was  four 
years  old,  this  pygmy  warrior,  armed  with  a  little  wooden 
gun,  might  be  seen  making  furious  attacks  against  the 
ample  stomach  of  his  instructor,  who  was  obliged  to  de- 
fend with  his  cane  the  part  assaulted. 

"  The  little  scamp,"  said  the  chevalier  recovering 
himself,  **  is  going  to  have  the  dashing  courage  of  the 
D'Habervilles,  with  the  persistence  and  independence 
of  the  proud  islanders  from  whom  he  is  descended 
through  his  mother." 

Jos^  had  at  first  shown  himself  rather  cool  toward 
his  young  mistress,  but  he  ended  by  becoming  warmly 


i« 


282 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD. 


idi 

•:l|l 


attached  to  her.  She  had  speedily  found  the  weak  point 
in  his  armor  of  reserve.  Jose,  like  his  late  father, 
dearly  loved  his  glass,  which,  however,  produced  very 
little  effect  upon  his  hard  head.  It  was  as  if  one  should 
pour  the  liquor  upon  the  head  of  the  weather-cock,  and 
expect  to  confuse  the  judgment  of  that  venerable  but 
volatile  bird.  His  young  mistress  was  forever  offering 
Jos^  a  drop  of  brandy  to  warm  him  or  a  glass  of  wine  to 
refresh  him  ;  till  Jose  ended  by  declaring  that  if  the 
Englishmen  were  somewhat  uncivil,  their  countrywomen 
by  no  means  resembled  them  in  that  regard. 

With  their  minds  at  ease  as  to  the  future  of  their 
children,  M.  and  Madame  d'Haberville  lived  happily  to 
extreme  old  age.  The  captain's  last  words  to  his  son 
were : 

**  Serve  your  new  sovereign  as  faithfully  as  I  have 
served  the  King  of  France  ;  and  may  God  bless  you, 
my  dear  son,  for  the  comfort  that  you  have  been  to 
me  ! " 

Uncle  Raoul,  dying  three  years  before  his  brother, 
bid  farewell  to  life  with  but  one  regret.  He  would  have 
liked  to  see  his  little  nephew  fairly  launched  on  the 
career  of  arms,  the  only  career  he  considered  quite 
worthy  of  a  D'Haberville.  Having  perceived,  however, 
that  the  child  made  great  progress  in  his  studies,  he 
comforted  himself  with  the  thought  that,  if  not  a  soldier, 
his  nephew  might  turn  out  a  savant  like  himself  and 
keep  the  torch  of  learning  lighted  in  the  family. 

Jos6,  who  had  a  constitution  of  iron  and  sinews  of 
steel,  who  had  never  had  an  hour  of  sickness,  regarded 
death  as  a  sort  of  hypothetical  event.  One  of  his  friends 
said  to  him  one  day  after  his  master's  death  : 

"  Do  you  know,  Jos^,  you  must  be  at  least  eighty 
years  old,  and  one  would  scarcely  take  you  to  be  fifty." 

Jos6  leaned  upon  his  hip  to  show  his  steadiness, 


CO.VCLUSION. 


283 


iTcak  point 
te  father, 
need  very 
ne  should 
cock,  and 
Table  but 
;r  offering 
of  wine  to 
hat  if  the 
try  women 

e  of  their 
lappily  to 
;o  his  son 

as  I  have 
bless  you, 
e  been  to 

s  brother, 
^ould  have 
;d  on  the 
red  quite 
,  however, 
tudies,  he 
;  a  soldier, 
mself  and 

sinews  of 

regarded 

lis  friends 

ast  eighty 
be  fifty." 
teadiness, 


blew  through  his  pipe  to  expel  a  bit  of  ashes,  fumbled 
in  his  pocket  with  his  one  remaining  hand  till  he  found 
his  tobacco  and  his  flint  and  steel,  and  at  length  replied 
with  great  deliberation. 

"  As  you  know,  I  am  the  foster-brother  of  our  late 
captain  ;  I  was  brought  up  in  his  house  ;  I  have  followed 
him  in  every  campaign  that  he  has  made;  I  have  trained 
his  two  children ;  I  have  begun,  do  you  see,  upon  a  new 
charge,  the  care  of  his  grandchildren.  Very  well,  then  ! 
As  long  as  a  D'Haberville  needs  my  services,  I  don't 
propose  to  leave." 

"  Do  you  .hink,  then,  that  you  will  live  as  long  as  the 
late  Maqueue-sal^  [Methuselah]  ? "  asked  the  neighbor. 

"  Longer  still,  if  need  be,"  replied  Jose. 

Then,  having  taken  from  his  pocket  everything 
which  he  needed,  he  filled  his  pipe,  put  a  bit  of  lighted 
tinder  on  the  bowl,  and  applied  himself  to  smoking  while 
he  regarded  his  friend  with  the  air  of  a  man  convinced 
of  the  truth  of  everything  which  he  has  said. 

Jos6  kept  his  word  for  a  dozen  years  ;  but  it  was  in 
vain  that  he  endeavored  to  strengthen  himself  against 
old  age  by  occupying  himself  with  his  usual  tasks,  de- 
spite the  remonstrances  of  his  masters,  and  at  last  he 
was  forced  to  keep  the  house.  All  the  family  were  anx- 
ious about  him. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  my  dear  Jose  ?  "  said  Jules. 

"Bah  !  only  laziness,"  replied  Jos6,  "or  perhaps  my 
rheumatics." 

But  Jos^  had  never  had  an  attack  of  that  malady. 
This  was  only  an  excuse. 

"  Give  the  good  old  fellow,  ma'am,  his  morning  glass, 
it  will  revive  him,"  said  Archie. 

"  I  am  going  to  bring  you  a  little  glass  of  excellent 
brandy,"  said  Madame  Jules. 

"  Not  just  now,"  replied  Jose,  "  I  always  have  some 


284 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD, 


in  my  trunk,  but  this  morning  it  doesn't  "appeal  to 
mc." 

They  began  to  be  seriously  alarmed  ;  this  was  a  bad 
symptom. 

"  Then  I  am  going  to  make  you  a  cup  of  tea,"  said 
Madame  Jules,  "  and  you  will  feel  better." 

'*  My  English  wife,"  said  Jules,  "  thinks  tea  a  remedy 
for  all  ills." 

Jose  drank  the  tea,  and  declared  that  it  was  a  fine 
medicine  and  that  he  felt  better,  but  this  did  not  pre- 
vent the  faithful  servant  from  taking  to  his  bed  that  very 
evening  never  to  leave  it  alive. 

When  the  brave  fellow  knew  that  his  end  was  draw- 
ing near,  he  said  to  Jules,  who  watched  with  him  through 
the  night  : 

"  I  have  prayed  the  good  God  to  prolong  my  life  to 
your  childrens'  next  holidays,  so  that  I  might  see  them 
once  more  before  I  die,  but  I  shall  not  have  that  conso- 
lation." 

"You  shall  see  them  to-morrow,  my  dear  Jos^." 

An  hour  later  Lochiel  was  on  the  way  to  Quebec, 
and  on  the  next  evening  all  those  who  were  the  dearest 
in  the  world  to  that  faithful  and  affectionate  servant 
were  gathered  around  his  death-bed.  After  talking 
with  them  for  some  time  and  bidding  them  a  most  ten- 
der farewell,  he  summoned  all  his  strength  in  order  to 
sit  up  in  bed,  and  when  Jules  approached  to  support 
him,  a  burning  tear  fell  on  his  hand.  After  this  last 
effort  of  that  strong  nature,  he  who  had  shared  the  good 
and  the  bad  fortune  of  the  D'Habervilles  fell  back  and 
ceased  to  breathe. 

"  Let  us  pray  for  the  soul  of  one  of  the  best  men  that 
I  have  known,"  said  Archie,  closing  his  eyes. 

Jules  and  Blanche,  in  spite  of  remonstrances,  would 
not  resign  to  any  one  the  task  of  watching  beside  their 


0. 

5n't  appeal   to 

this  was  a  bad 

P  of  tea,"  said 

tea  a  remedy 

:  it  was  a  fine 
>  did  not  pre- 
bed  that  very 

d  was  draw- 
him  through 

ig  my  life  to 
jht  see  them 
'  that  conso- 

rjosd." 
to  Quebec, 
the  dearest 
ate  servant 
'ter   talking 
1  most  ten- 
in  order  to 
to  support 
2r  this  last 
d  the  good 
back  and 

t  men  that 

ces,  would 
sside  their 


CONCLUSION. 


285 


old  f  'end  during  the  three  days  that  his  body  remained 
at  the  manor  house. 

"  If  one  of  our  family  had  died,"  they  said,  "  Jules 
would  not  have  left  him  to  another's  care." 

One  day  when  Archie,  in  the  course  of  one  of  his 
frequent  visits  to  the  D'Habervilles,  was  walking  with 
Jules  in  front  of  the  manor  house,  he  saw  approaching 
on  foot  an  old  man,  decently  clad,  carrying  a  sealskin 
bag  on  his  shoulders. 

"  Who  is  that  man  }  "  he  asked. 

"  Ah,"  said  Jules,  "  that  is  our  friend,  M.  D ,  car- 
rying his  office  on  his  back." 

"  What !     His  office  .>  "  said  Archie. 

"  Ceitainly.  He  is  an  itinerant  notary.  Eveiy  three 
months  he  travels  through  certain  districts,  drawing  up 
new  deeds  and  finishing  up  copies  of  the  rough  drafts 
which  he  always  carries  with  him  in  order  that  he  may 
not  be  taken  unawares.  He  is  an  excellent  and  very 
amiable  man,  French  by  birth,  and  very  intelligent. 
On  coming  to  Canada  he  began  with  a  small  trade  in 
pictures  which  proved  unprofitable,  and  then,  remem- 
bering that  he  had  formerly  studied  for  two  years  with 
an  advocate  in  France,  he  boldly  presented  himself  be- 
fore the  judges,  and  passed  an  examination,  which,  if 
not  brilliant,  was  at  least  satisfactory  enough  for  his  new 
country,  and  then  returned  home  in  triumph  with  a 
notary's  commission  in  his  pocket.  I  assure  you  that 
every  one  gets  on  well  with  his  deeds,  which  are  drawn 
with  a  most  scrupulous  honesty  tnat  supplies  the  place 
of  the  diction,  purer  but  often  tarnished  by  bad  faith,  of 
more  learned  notaries."  " 

"Your  nomadic  notary,"  replied  Archie,  smiling, 
"arrives  opportunely.     I  have  work  for  him." 

In  fact,  Lochiel,  who  was  already  well  advanced  in 
the  task  of  clearing  which  he  was  so  actively  engaged 


i! 


286 


THE  CANADIANS  OF  OLD, 


upon  for  the  benefit  of  his  friend  Dumais,  made  over  to 
him  in  due  form  all  his  real  estate,  reserving  only  for 
himself  duriiig  his  life-time  the  half  of  the  new  and 
spacious  house  which  he  had  built. 

The  visits  of  Archie  to  the  man^r  house  became 
more  frequent  as  he  advanced  in  age,  and  he  ended  by 
establishing  himself  there  altogether.  Blanche  was  no 
longer  in  his  eyes  anything  more  than  an  adopted  sister; 
and  the  sweet  name  of  brother,  which  Blanche  had  given 
him,  purified  the  remnant  of  passion  which  yet  clung  to 
the  heart  of  this  noble  woman. 

•  •  •  •  t  •  • 

The  author  has  become  so  attached  to  the  chief  char- 
acters in  this  veracious  history  that  it  costs  him  a  pang 
to  banish  them  from  the  scene.  He  fears  also  to  grieve 
those  of  his  readers  who  may  share  this  attachment  should 
he  kill  them  all  off  with  one  stroke  of  the  pen.  Time 
will  do  the  fatal  work  without  the  author's  assistance. 

It  is  eleven  o'clock  in  the  evening,  toward  the  end 
of  October.  The  D'Haberville  family  are  gathered  in 
a  little  parlor  sufficiently  illuminated,  without  the  help 
of  the  candles,  by  the  flame  from  an  armful  of  dry  cedar 
chips  which  are  blazing  in  the  great  chimney.  Lochiel, 
now  nearly  sixty  years  of  age,  is  playing  a  game  of 
draughts  with  Blanche.  Jules,  seated  between  his  wife 
and  daughter,  near  the  fire,  is  teasing  them  both  without 
altogether  neglecting  the  players. 

Young  Archie  d'Haberville,  only  son  of  Jules  and 
godson  of  Lochiel,  is  in  a  brown  study.  He  is  following 
the  fantastic  figures  which  his  imagination  has  created 
in  the  flames  now  dying  slowly  on  the  hearth. 

"  What  are  you  thinking  about,  my  grave  philoso- 
pher ?  "  said  his  father. 

"  I  have  been  watching  with  intense  interest,"  an- 
swered the  young  man,  **  a  little  group  of  men,  women, 


CONCLUSION, 


287 


made  over  to 

rving  only  for 

the  new  and 

louse  became 
he  ended  by 
mche  was  no 
iopted  sister; 
:he  had  given 
I  yet  clung  to 


le  chief  char- 
5  him  a  pang 
lIso  to  grieve 
iment  should 

pen.    Time 
issistance. 
ard  the  end 

gathered  in 
)ut  the  help 
of  dry  cedar 
y.    Lochiel, 

a  game  of 
een  his  wife 
)oth  without 


and  children  who  have  been  walking,  dancing,  rising, 
falling,  and  who  have  at  length  all  vanished." 

The  cedar  fire  had  just  died  out. 

*'  You  are  the  true  son  of  your  mother,  a  godson 
worthy  of  your  godfather,"  said  Jules  d'Haberville,  ris- 
ing to  bid  good-ni^ht. 

Like  the  fantastic  figures  which  young  D'Haber'/ille 
was  watching  in  the  flames,  my  characters,  dear  reader, 
have  been  moving  for  some  time  before  your  eyes,  to 
vanish  suddenly,  perhaps  forever,  with  him  who  set  them 
in  motion. 

Farewell,  then,  dear  reader,  before  my  hand,  growing 
more  cold  than  our  Canadian  winters,  refuses  any  longer 
to  trace  my  thoughts. 


THE   END. 


f  Jules  and 
is  following 
has  created 


I. 


ve  philoso- 

terest,"  an- 
en,  women, 


StWIBOMyBH  TOWKSIIP    ~\ 
fiiMlC  IIMMBB  J 


